


Tempt not the wolf, lest your heart be devoured

by Drachenkinder



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, Don’t copy to another site, Jötunn Loki, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn, Thorki - Freeform, War Prize Thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 03:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 86,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17460197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drachenkinder/pseuds/Drachenkinder
Summary: Thor is captured after his attack on Jötunheim and wants revenge.  Loki is a powerful sorcerer and Jötunn prince, whose life has been a bit lonely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wild Ambition Fortune's Ice Prefers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/845183) by [amberfox17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberfox17/pseuds/amberfox17). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor is captured on Jötunhiem and held for his attack. Jötunn Prince Loki must take charge of him. Thanks to Thorkidumpster for the idea. It has gotten completely out of hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [golikethatcat made this beautiful art.](https://golikethatcat.tumblr.com/post/184384408579/blue-loki-inspired-by-and-wishing-i-could-do) please check it out and take a look at the rest of his incredible work.  
> 

[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/28806674@N08/NC3gsg)

Tempt not the wolf, lest your heart be devoured  
or your soul become ensnared, to flashing fire lit eyes  
that in the forest shadow, take on another guise.

Tempt not the wolf, lest your heart be devoured  
when you roam the empty land, and pace his loping stride  
a comfort to your sorrows, enemy of your pride

Tempt not the wolf, lest your heart be devoured  
if spirit touches spirit, and wakes a darker need  
then winter’s wind comes howling, and makes the pale moon bleed

Thor’s spine was aching, his shoulders burned, and his wrists throbbed from the thin handcuffs which secured his hands behind his back. They should not have been able to hold him. The delicate metal rings should have twisted into shards when he pulled at them. Instead they were threatening to cut off his numbing hands.Their twins encircled his ankles and a chain between the two kept him in this strained position. A collar around his throat was chained to a boulder embedded in the frozen ground. He was uncertain how long he had knelt in the dark tent, shivering in the cold, one paltry brazier all that kept him from freezing to death. 

Yesterday or perhaps it was the day before, it was hard to tell time in the near dark of Jötunheim, he was to have been crowned Asgard’s king. But Jötnar warriors had invaded Odin’s vault of treasures in an attempt to regain the Casket of Winters. The Destroyer had killed them. Odin was satisfied by their deaths, but Thor was furious at the attempted invasion. 

He was even more furious when Odin forbade any retribution. How could the old fool not see that a strike into the very heart of Asgard was a declaration of war? They had fought about it and Odin had declared Thor a foolish boy, unfit for the throne and his ascension was now put off indefinitely. Thor had gathered his friends in the deserted feasting hall, spoke passionately of his desire to find out how the monsters had gained access to the castle and leave a warning the beasts would never forget. They swore their loyalty to the prince and were on their way to Jötunheim within the hour. Heimdall gave them passage. He also worried how the giants had slunk into Asgard without his knowledge, though he was reluctant to open the Bifrost, until Thor reminded him who would be king one day. 

Thor shook his head. The guardian had warned them he would not open the Bifrost to return them if there was any danger to the realm. Thor never thought he’d keep that promise. However, true to his word, when a horde of Jötar was bearing down on them, Heimdall heeded not the prince’s call for help.

Thor had expected the animals to slaughter them. Instead all five had been captured. Only because they had a sorcerer among them. Thor had not spied which of the giants it was, but he was powerful enough to open a gate in front of a thrown Mjölnir and the hammer disappeared into the void. Fandral had been ransomed first, his wounds were treated, but he was in bad condition and Thor knew not if his friend lived. Hogun, Sif and finally Volstagg had all been returned to Asgard. Only Thor was still held captive. Odin had refused to pay his wergild. 

The giants were demanding the return of the Casket of Winters for his attack on their realm. Thor expected Odin to declare war, but instead his father had refused to even look at him, declaring Thor to be a war mongering fool, neither a prince of Asgard, nor Odinson and without honor or merit. Let the Jötunn do as they would. Odin stated that he was not too old to sire another heir. Meanwhile Odin’s younger brother Tyr was named next in line.

Thor had felt his jaw drop, stunned beyond belief. That Mjölnir returned not to his hand let Thor know his father had no intention of rescuing him. He’d felt the connection riven with an already numbed heart. He’d been returned to the tent and here he knelt. Waiting for whatever torments the Jötnar decided to mete out to him. His one lone guard mute and watchful. The endless black night had eventually turned to grey day before he heard a light step outside the tent and saw a man push aside the tent flap and stand silhouetted by the weak daylight. 

At least Thor had thought it a man. Upon entering and shrugging off his light cape he’d turned and Thor saw it was a frost giant who approached him. Though one much smaller than his companions. Slender as were all his kind, he sported a head of shining black hair that fell past his shoulders and features of a startling beauty. Were it not for his flat chest and broad shoulders Thor would have wondered if it were a female Jötunn that strode toward him with such a disdainful look. Two days in the hands of the monsters and he’d had not a glimpse of their women, nor a single child. The runty Jötunn glanced at the brazier, wiped a hand across his glistening forehead and said in a clear baritone.

“Is it necessary that it be kept sweltering in here?”

“The Aesir are a weak people your highness.” the guard said, bowing deeply. “ He would die from cold in a matter of hours, even on such a mild day as this.”

“Ah. Well one must make amends for the lessor species, I suppose.”

Thor bristled at the lessor species comment, but held his tongue.

The small Jötunn bent down, grasped Thor’s chin and raised his head.

“What shall we do with you, I wonder.” 

Thor jerked his head away from the cool hand, with a growl. It seemed a Jötunn’s touch was only deadly when they wished it to be.

“Oh come now,” the Jötunn said, sinking to the floor and sitting cross legged in apparent comfort on the thin carpet that covered the frozen ground.

“While Aesir are not the brightest species of the nine realms, I know full well that you are capable of speech.”

“You dare to impinge the intelligence of your betters? I am a prince of Asgard.”

“You did walk rather spectacularly right into my trap. And you are unfortunately, no longer a prince of anywhere.” the Jötunn said with a slight frown. 

“Your trap?” Thor glared at the mocking blue face. “It was you who sent the giants to seize the Casket of Winters? Your trap failed, they were killed.”

“I didn't expect them to succeed. I wouldn’t have used convicted murderers otherwise.” He tucked a stray strand of inky black hair behind his ear. “ What I did expect was your retribution. You have earned quite a name as a brutish hot head and I was glad to see you lived up to your reputation.”

“You planned on my arrival?” Thor asked.

“We’d hardly have an army waiting for you otherwise. Though you almost walked away thanks to your friend Fandral's soothing words. If Helblindi hadn’t thought quickly and spoke when he did, all would have come to naught. Father was rather strict that we not throw the first blow.”

“Then this was all a dishonorable, underhanded trick? Instead of meeting Asgard in open combat you use sorcery and lies?”

The Jötunn, prince he must be if he called Laufy father, Thor thought, rose gracefully to his feet.

“I can see why Odin doesn't value you any higher.” He spat. “It is too bad you are such a useless fool, otherwise we would have what we wished and you would be back in the bloodied comfort of your hel born world. Instead the casket remains in Asgard and I am left with a belligerent and fragile slave. It is doubtful I could trade you for a pound of year old hardfiskur.”

He turned to the guard, “Agnar, see that he is fed and has a pallet to sleep on, and given enough furs to keep him warm. Also a bucket for the other necessities.”

“Yes prince. All will be done as you have ordered.”

Loki turned back to Thor. His burning crimson eyes seemed to gather in the light and leave the rest of the tent in darkness.

“As much as I would like to slit your throat and be rid of you, we are not barbarians and have rules about the treatment of captives.”

Loki waved his hand and Thor’s handcuffs were gone. He no sooner brought his aching arms forward then the cuffs reappeared around his wrists, wider spaced now, but reattached to the chain leading to his shackled ankles. At least he had some small allowance of movement and could stand. 

“Though it will be difficult for you, do try to be less of an inconvenience while I arrange for suitable permanent accommodations.” 

Loki picked up his cloak and swept out out of the tent. Thor rubbed his wrists and flexed his fingers as the blood poured back into his tingling, half frozen digits. The too pretty Jötunn was the cause of all his troubles. Thor would behave himself for the time being. If they thought him complacent he would win more freedom. He would do his best to be a model prisoner and earn the Jotunn prince's trust. Right up until the time has was close enough to get his hands around the sorcerer’s neck and strangle the bastard.

Loki stepped out into the welcome cold. It wasn’t just the brazier’s fire that had him flushed. None of the reports he’d received on Thor had mentioned that the ex-prince was devastatingly handsome. The perfect size too. Loki thought a moment how it would be to straddle those massive muscled thighs and take his thick cock. It had to be thick. No one of those godlike proportions could have a tiny prick. Too bad he was filled with prejudice and lies and his head was as empty as a larder in late winter. Ah well, perhaps he was trainable.

Loki shook his own head to clear his mind, and adjusted himself before heading toward the pickets where his riding beast was tethered. He had a report to turn into his father. Laufey had let him run with his plan and Loki was ashamed of his failure. He knew Laufey wouldn’t blame him. The reasoning was sound. He could not have predicted Odin would rather disown his own child than hand over the Casket of Winters. It had been their best shot at rejuvenating Jötunheim in years. Loki sighed, he was going to have to come up with another plan. 

Their people were aging and no children had been born since the great wars of conquest, when the heart of their world had been stolen away and locked up. At present it was nothing more than a useless trinket for a greedy and evil ruler. He would get it back. He’d trained his whole life for this one goal. As Jötunheim’s premier sorcerer Loki had already proven himself able to breach Odin’s defenses. As soon as he figured out where to shelf Thor, he’d return to study his magic books and the few reports he had on Odin’s magic, looking for any information on the Destroyer. 

He untied the huge snuffling snowboar, fed it a handful of treats and pulled himself into the high saddle. As he rode toward the hidden stronghold, Loki could not help thinking how it would feel to have another powerful beast between his thighs. One golden haired and glowering, with eyes the color of a summer sky. He contemplated spells of control as the miles wore away under the trotting cloven hooves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a bit of angsty porn, but you all know I can't do that without turning it into a freaking novel. Porn as soon as I can stuff it into the plot.  
> Edited to include the poem.  
> Archive warning edited to better fit the direction the story is now going.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heart of Utgard. Family reunion. Bit of back story.  
> *Rape mentioned in passing, without details*

The road led to the ruined city of Utgard, the once great castle reduced to shattered walls and the city little more than hovels made of piled rubble. The only maintained homes were those which skirted the edge of the once bustling port, where the remaining fisherman pulled the majority of the local protein from the icy sea. Loki didn’t envy those inhabitants who presently lived among the ruins in order to keep the myth of a broken people intact. It was a duty rotated through the populace. Even the royals spent time in the remains of the castle to keep Heimdall's ever watching eyes from wandering further. Loki rode into the castle and down to the underground trail that led to the new heart of Utgard. 

Three miles of tunnels snaked beneath the permafrost before opening up to a massive cavern covered by a roof of clear blue ice. From above it looked no different than any other of the sapphire blue lakes that dotted the frozen plain. The magic that kept the roof intact and masked what was under its surface was the result of subtle weaving of Jötunheim’s best mages. The center of the cavern was carpeted with a thick growth of willow, ground birch, moss and lichen, where snowboar, reindeer, muskox and shaggy coated auroch grazed. Stone fences draped in brambles protected fields of roots, pulses and greens for Jötnar consumption and spreading crow, lingon and bearberries took over any space between the crops. Homes and workshops clustered around the edges of the fields, where they would catch the morning or evening light, further back the storehouses and barns huddled in the gathering dark.

Loki removed his cloak as he’d approached the town. The temperature of the cavern was well above the melting point of water, and quite balmy without the cooling effect of any wind. Once much of Jötunheim had looked like this, in the warmth of summer. Covered in tundra and supporting life in abundance while the southern provinces had conifer forests and alpine meadowlands. Only the northernmost lands were locked in eternal winter, and there the sea had been filled with a bounty of fish and seal and whale under the blanketing ice. 

All that had changed when the Casket of Winters was ripped from Jötunheim. Odin saw it only as a weapon of war, as the Jötnar had indeed resorted to its use to stop the advance of the Aesir army, freezing them where they stood in the late spring snow. Odin’s spear had taken that last defense when Laufey had been struck down. With Helblindi too young to be on the field of war and Býleistr too sorely wounded from a previous strike, there was none left to wield the Casket and it fell into their enemies’ hands. The war was not over of course, the Jötnar had regrouped around their fallen leaders, driving the Aesir back, and Odin could not use the Casket he’d stolen. 

But it was the last spring in Jötunheim, for with the Casket of Winters gone, summer never came and winter reclaimed their world. The Asier returned again and again until the encroaching cold finally drove them back to Asgard. Their last act was to raze Utgard to the ground and destroy the temple of the Casket. Only the fierce fighting led by his newly delivered father allowed time for the priests and Laufey’s last born to escape. Odin lost an eye in the battle and left the realm of the Jötnar never to return. The rebellion of his leading general was undoubtedly the reason for Odin’s decision to forgo further conquest. He claimed victory, but there was no surrender, no treaty and no tribute given to the Aesir invaders. 

Jötunheim had not recovered. They survived in the harsh reality of a land locked in winter, though the first years took a terrible toll as their people died of starvation and heartbreak. The slaughter of so many of their people in the war and the destruction of their homeland made for a bleak existence, but the worst heartbreak was the warborn. Those who had been engendered before the loss of the Casket of Winters, but born after it had been stolen. Some, who were nearly full term, suffered only minor effects, a little smaller, or slower to learn than their older siblings. Others, like the last born prince, were struck with variations of underdevelopment, as if they had stopped growing in the womb the moment the Casket was lost. Loki was one of a handful born with normal, though tiny proportions. He was one of the fewer still whose brains were undamaged. He was the last sorcerer born. Finally were those too early in pregnancy to survive. Infants miscarried or living long enough to birth, who took a few struggling breaths before their souls left their undeveloped bodies.

The effect had not spread beyond the Jötnar. But that was little solace when their herds were also dying of starvation and their fields lay covered with unmelting snow and the richness of their oceans became more and more difficult to reach under ever thickening ice. It was the cleverness of the remaining sorcerer's that allowed them to create these scattered havens under the earth, hiding them from Aesir’s all seeing watchman.

Despite all their efforts they were still a dying race. Without another generation it was only a matter of time until the Jötnar were no more. Almost no children had been conceived since that time. Only one had lived beyond its first breath. 

Svaðilfari was, like Loki one of those warborn. While small by Jötnar standards he was strong and handsome in body and clever enough in mind, but he had a hidden weakness. They had been raised friends, brothers almost. Though Svaðilfar was not of noble birth, so precious were these last children there was little prejudice against their association. All might have gone well had Svaðilfar not developed an attraction to Loki that his friend did not return. Loki had tried to be kind, tried to put off his increasingly unwanted attentions with gentle words but the Jötunn would not be dissuaded. Finally Loki had reluctantly agreed to have Svaðilfar banned from the royal city. The night before Svaðilfar was to move to another cavern he’d sneaked into Loki’s private quarters where he begged a second chance and swore undying love to the prince. 

Angered at his effrontery and frightened by his increasingly violent proposals, Loki had ordered him out. What Svaðilfar was not to be given in love, he took by force. Loki was too shocked by the attack of his once close friend to fight back effectively and a blow across his head rendered him unable to do more than endure. In the aftermath of the rape Svaðilfar had fled Utgard. Loki was glad when his older brothers found the lifeless body of his former playmate frozen in the briny surf. It comforted him somewhat, that Svaðilfar took his own life out of regret. It was some months later that Loki became aware he’d left Loki with more than tarnished memories.

Loki dismounted and handed the snowboar over to the stable hand. King Laufey was waiting on the steps of their home, largest in the small city but no looming castle. Loki ran to greet his father and was swept up into a enveloping hug. He returned the embrace as best he could, though he laughingly protested. 

“Father I am not a child, please put me down.”

“You will always be my child Loki, no matter how old you become.”

“Bly,” Loki called, seeing his elder brother coming toward them. “Does he still treat you this way?”

“If he could, I’ve no doubt the old man would.” Býleistr said with a smile as he and Loki exchanged a more restrained embrace. “There’s a benefit to being heavier than one's parent. We’ve heard the bad news. What sort of a man would abandon his son, to hold on to his pride?”

“The same kind of man who would kill his own daughter,” Laufey said as they went inside, Loki trotting to keep up with his much taller relatives. “Though Hela was possibly even more of a monster than her father.”

“How is Sleipnir, Father?” Loki asked.

Laufey smiled softly. “As he always is. A delight to an old man’s heart and a reminder of the summer sun we have not seen in a thousand years.” 

But Loki could see for himself as Sleipnir’s voice filled the room with the cheerful cry of “Fada!” He toddled toward Loki with his ever present ear to ear grin and once again Loki found himself lifted from the ground into a crushing embrace. He returned this hug with all the rib bruising enthusiasm which it was given. Nor did he demand his beaming son put him down. Never would Loki do anything to banish the smile from his child’s face. Sleipnir released him after he was given his payment of three kisses and then half dragged his smaller father across the room to see his latest creation. Loki oohed and ahhed at the crude clay sculptures and listened while his son told him a meandering tale of each one and its adventures. Eventually Sleipnir’s nurse came and took him away for his afternoon nap. 

Loki watched his son leave with a warmth in his heart. Physically Sleipnir was the perfect Jötunn. Tall as Laufey, broad as Býleistr and handsome as Helblindi, it was only his mind that remained that of a small child. Loki had made the decision to continue the pregnancy after Svaðilfar’s assault. He was not sure why he had, for even in the face of their devastated population, Laufey never pressured Loki to keep the fetus. But when Loki first looked on his baby’s face, all indecision disappeared. Even as an infant Sleipnir had a sunny disposition. As it became obvious he would never become the Jötunn Loki once hoped he would be, Loki buried the dream of the ordinary and embraced the extraordinary reality of his child. Sleipnir was gentle, loving and filled with wonder and happiness. His enthusiastic smile was contagious and in a world where joy was rare, Sleipnir was a blessing to all he met.

Loki was glad that this gift was his to share, and proud that his people adored the tall, sweet faced, young Jötunn. They had and continued to endure the harshest of challenges for survival, they were, by necessity the most ruthless of warriors. But they had not given into barbarity and kindness had not been crushed from their natures. Loki followed his father and brother to their meal, shame at his failure to secure the Casket of Winters weighing down his steps. His people deserved better than this scrabbling, sneaking existence. 

Loki’s rage at Odin and his useless get flared hot in his soul. What had they ever given the nine realms but death, torment and hardship. He would humble that arrogant savage of an ex-prince. Break him to Loki’s will in exchange for all his people suffered. Strip him of every dignity and bit of false pride. Then use him to find a way into the heart of Odin’s power. Loki barely tasted the meal before him nor heard his father's and brother’s conversation so caught up was he in the vision of exacting revenge. If Odin thought to be done with Loki he was very much mistaken. He would hone Thor into the tool to take the Allfather down. 

Býleistr glanced up and shivered at the look on Loki’s face. Whatever his youngest sibling was planning, he was glad Loki’s wrath wasn’t aimed at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is not going where I thought it would. But I'm very happy where it is going. Loki and Thor both consider their enemies to be barbaric monsters. Which will get in the way of their mutual unwanted attraction. I hope you like Sleipnir.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disaster looms. A bit of surprising history that sheds light on a difficult problem. A handy tool is found. Loki saves a life, and manages to behave himself.

“Father,” Loki asked when their meal was over. “Where is Helblindi? I thought to speak with him on how to best confine the Odinson. He left the camp last night and said he would consult some of his texts.”

“He had to leave again this morning, for there is more bad news.” Laufey answered. “The spells on Holtoft, are failing and there were signs the roof was in danger of collapse. He has gone to assist their mage in repairing them.”

“So soon? They should have held for another ten years at the least.”

“So they should, but as you know the period between renewing them has dwindled over time. Such weakening of the spells is speeding up my son, and we lost two of our strongest mages in the last dark time. The long night is unkind to the elderly.” 

“Then I should leave to check the spells protecting our other towns. Torsborg has no attendant sorcerer and its spells are older than those of Holtoft. Curse Odin for his stubborn pride and curse his son for being a nuisance. Bly could you take charge of the beast till I return?”

“Only long enough to drive a shard through the monster’s heart.” Býleistr answered.

“It is not our way to kill prisoners of war.” Laufey chided his eldest.

“Do you forget that it was on Aesir spears Fárbauti died? I will not suffer one to live should it come within my grasp.” Býleistr yelled.

“He was your bearer, but my mate Býleistr,” Laufey roared back, rising to his feet. “Do not think to remind me of the wound in my heart that has never healed.” He turned and strode away from the table to the window that looked out over the town. Laufey stood with heaving shoulders while Býleistr glared over at Loki. 

“How could you think to ask such a thing of me?” he whispered, his huge hands clenched.

Loki reached out and placed his hand on his brother’s arm. “I did not think Bly, no further then I must attend to the safety of the towns and that the Odinson is an inconvenience I could well do without. I did not, this time, mean to upset you.”

Býleistr blew out an angry breath. He’d been the target of Loki’s pranks on more than one occasion and knew the smaller Jötunn loved nothing more then to best him through trickery. But for all that there was a deeper loyalty between them. It was rare indeed for Loki to do more then hurt his pride. And that only when he had been hurt in turn. 

“You are forgiven. But do not bring that son of a maggot here.” 

“I shall not. But father,” Loki turned to where Laufey still gazed out on the fields and homes of Utgard. “How am I to deal with him? I can hardly bind him with magic to keep him complacent and at the same time repair the protection spells over our towns. He is prodigiously strong and has buried within him a sorcery of his own. I doubt the spell I have holding him now will last longer then another two days, for his power eats away at my magic. I thought the Aesir had no talent.”

Laufey turned back into the room, took a napkin from the table and wiped the tears from his eyes. Býleistr and Loki shared a guilty look for causing their father such pain.

“The Aesir do not have any talent for magic.” Laufey raised his hand at Loki’s automatic protest. “But the answer to your dilemma lies in the reason why Odin and his son both carry the gift. Do you remember the story of Bestla?” 

Loki frowned as he tried to recall the tale. “Only that he was taken captive by the Aesir and escaped. Also wasn’t his brother killed during the rescue and his head was cut off and kept as a trophy?” Further proof of the Aesir barbarity Loki thought.

“Bestla was the youngest brother of my grandfather,” Laufey started. “He was born small like you, and also like you he had the gift of sorcery. He shared another trait in that he was beautiful and gifted in speech and could charm any he chose to his bed. In those days the roads between worlds were open and the Ljósálfr and Vanir often visited and word came to the young Aesir King, Borr, of his beauty. Borr came to Jötunheim and called upon Bölþorn, Bestla’s father. For he was known for the quality of his brewing and Borr used the ruse of buying mead for Asgard to meet Bestla.”

“Like many before, Borr fell for the charms of my great uncle, but unlike any other Bestla fell just as much in love. In time Borr proposed marriage and his offer was accepted. Bestla went to live in Asgard and all was assumed well, for letters came regularly. Over time Bestla gave birth to three sons, Odin, Tyr and Ve. Yet there was something Bestla’s family did not know. The climate of Asgard is unbearably hot to one of Jötunheim and had Bestla not been a shape shifter he could not have lived there. Yet even a sorcerer of his power would be taxed to long maintain such a spell. So Borr had the dwarves make a torc for Bestla that would allow him to maintain his Aesir form without the trouble of casting spells. Borr presented the torc to Bestla on their wedding night. But it was a trap, for Borr wanted not a partner, but a slave such as the Aesir call wife. Bestla was trapped not only in Aesir shape, but the form of an Aesir woman, for they are split like the beasts into male and female and are not complete in themselves as the Jötnar are. The torc also stole Bestla’s power and made him compliant to his husband’s rule. Yet in time he was able to get word to Mímir and his brothers and they came to rescue Bestla. He took his oldest child with him in his escape, but he did not get far before Borr and his warriors caught up with them. During the battle Mímir was killed and Bestla’s son was wrested from him. That son was Odin. Bestla however succeeded in returning to Jötunheim where our sorcerers were able to remove the torc. It was then that Jötunheim was first attacked by the Aesir. Borr was wounded and the Aesir driven from our world. We thought the matter settled, though Bestla pined sorely for his children and his brother and did not live long after returning to his family.” 

“Odin inherited his power from Bestla, and Thor his from Odin and his mother Frigga who is a sorceress of the Vanir.”

Loki hadn’t remembered or perhaps had never heard those details. 

“Odin is related to us? And Thor is my 2nd cousin?” If Loki looked shocked, Býleistr looked enraged again.

“All the more reason to despise then for the betrayal of their own family.” He said.

“Yes” Laufey answered both his sons. “But the point being, the torc still lies in the vault under the old palace. Is it not fitting that, that which bound my great uncle to the Aesir’s will, be used to bind his grandson to the will of a Jötunn?”

“Fitting indeed, father.” Loki said. The smirk was a dead give away he was up to more than simply keeping Thor out of trouble and Laufey started to question him, thought better of it and simply nodded. Sometimes it was best to not know what his youngest was up to. Loki got results. Usually the ones he was trying for. Laufey knew from experience that attempting to get Loki to share his plans if he didn’t wish to, was a fruitless endeavor. Loki would lie to his face with a smile, knowing Laufey knew he was lying and also that there was little his father could do to wring the truth from him.

Loki received directions to the location of the torc and after laying in supplies for the trip, he spent the rest of the day in the company of his family. He woke at dawn and left Utgard with two snowboar in tow, one carrying packs of food and supplies and one saddled and carrying clothing that would fit his captive. The search through the vault was nowhere near as difficult as he’d imagined. The torc had a signature of dwarven power that was easily traced, and an hour after arriving he was back on the trail to the dispersing camp. 

Only a few tents still stood, and those were being emptied of supplies as he rode up, many of the warriors had already left to their homes and families. Loki stopped outside the tent where Thor was being kept and pulled the torc from his saddle bag. The incantation to activate it was simple and he’d memorized it as he rode. "Might as well get this over with." he thought and pushed back the flap. 

The interior was dark compared to the grey morning light and Loki could only make out shapes for a moment, then he caught the gleam of the guard's eyes. A different one then he’d seen before. The other shape resolved into the shape of the Aesir, wrapped in a thin fur and curled into a ball. Loki noticed that the brazier was no longer burning. The temperature inside the tent was colder than it was outside and Loki had no doubt of the reason. He turned on the guard with a snarl.

“By whose order was this done?” Loki said, as he brought seidr to his hands with a green flickering light.

“I am Calder, and I need no order to know how to treat one of the Aesir scum.” The Guard said standing up and towering over Loki.

“Get out! Turn yourself in to your commander and pray the prisoner is not already dead.” Loki went to Thor and bent over him. The Aesir's skin was cold and grayish and frost covered his beard. His eyelashes were glued together with ice crystals. His clothing and blanket were stiffly frozen as though they had been soaked with water. 

“It is not right that a prince of Jötunheim should concern himself with the well being of an Aesir, when there are those of his own blood that lie in the grave.”

Loki turned and looked at the guard, seidr flickered across his hand and leapt to the other's mouth, sealing his lips together in a solid band of flesh. 

“It is not right that a common soldier should dare to question the actions of his prince.” Loki said.

The guard put his hands to his face, gave a muffled bleat of horror and ran from the tent.

Loki returned to examining Thor. He was still alive, but only just. Loki swore. If the brute died Loki’s plan to turn him into a weapon against Odin died with him. 

Loki turned to the brazier, the coals were coated with a thick layer of ice. It was but a flick of his fingers to pull the ice away. It took more concentration to relight the damp coals. Fire magic did not come naturally to the Jötnar, but Loki had been determined to master all the elements. He was one of the very few able to manipulate its power. He called the remaining ice that clung to the inner walls of the tent and sent it outside. He knew this was not going to be enough and returned to the animals. Loki unloaded the packs and carried them back inside. A second brazier was put on Thor’s other side and lit. Pans filled with clean snow were sit on the braziers to melt. Loki pulled out heavy furs and clean clothing. Now came the difficult part. He gathered his seidr and carefully peeled the soaked frozen fur and clothing from the unconscious Aesir. His magic worked a thin layer of heat between stiff material and the man’s skin. Pulling it free without damaging the Aesir’s pink hide was a delicate process. 

He had to unlock the chains that bound the big man to get him completely undressed. The ruined clothing was thrown aside. He had imagined running his hands over the big man last night, but that dream was far different from the reality of having to deal with him in his present condition. Loki unlaced his own tunic and pulled it off over his head, with both braziers going it was getting too warm for even his light clothing. He dried the Aesir and wrapped him in the heavy furs. The water seemed intolerably hot to his hands and he hoped it was warm enough for the Aesir. He dipped washcloths in the painfully hot water and used them to wrap Thor’s blue tinged feet and hands. It was easier to keep the water in the cloths warm, than to heat the cloths themselves or even worse, try to magically warm the man’s skin. Loki used another to wash the frost from Thor’s face.

Loki was sweating in the heat, and stopped to pull off his boots and socks and pants, leaving him clad only in his undershorts. The tent was terribly hot to him, yet still the Aesir remained unresponsive. Though the fact that his breathing had speed up and his shivering had restarted and then slowed was a good sign. Loki knelt beside Thor, cupped the bearded chin in his hand and bent closer to examine the rising pink flush under the frost paled skin. He was surprised at the softness of the man’s beard, he’d expected something like snowboar bristles. The cheeks under the golden beard were well fleshed. The Aesir hadn’t been missing any meals lately. Loki slipped his other hand under the furs to rest it over Thor’s heart. The beat was steady and strong now and the broad pectorals felt hot to his hand. Here also the man was covered with that golden down. It was so soft under his fingers and the smooth curve of his powerful muscles was beautiful to behold. Why wasn’t he awakening? Was that a flutter of eyelashes? Loki glanced up into Thor’s bright blue eyes. He was suddenly aware of how compromised his position was, leaning over the man, almost naked, with one hand roaming his chest and the other stroking his cheek.

Loki snatched his hands away as if burned, heat rushing up his own face.

“I’m glad to see..” Loki started.

He got no further when with a roar the Aesir surged up from the furs and pinned Loki to the ground beneath his powerful body. The big hands were scrabbling at his throat in an attempt to get a grip. The only thing that saved the Jötunn from a painful throttling was the fact that Thor’s fingers were still stiff and clumsy with the cold.

Startled, Loki almost drove a knife of ice into the Aesir, but he remembered the torc at the last second and called it to his hand. Thor's fingers were starting to tighten on his throat when Loki snapped the torc into place and chanted the words of the enchantment in a half strangled voice. Too late the big man grabbed for the torc, his eyes wide as the spell took effect. 

“Stop!” Loki commanded. 

They both halted their struggles, staring at each other, panting from their efforts. There was a look of horror on Thor’s features and a smug smile was spreading across Loki’s face. He glanced down where the naked Aesir straddled him. Yes the ex-prince was hung, even more than Loki had imagined. He licked a startlingly pink tongue over his thin lips. Thor followed his gaze and immediately covered his crotch with his hands.

“Get off me you oaf.” Loki said. 

Thor glared at him, but complied, grabbing a fur to cover himself.

Loki sat up and ran a hand through his mussed hair smoothing back the raven waves. "This was going to be fun," he thought. He rose to his feet.

“Stand and let me get a look at you.” Loki said. “No. Drop that blanket and arms at your side.”

Thor stood naked, his face flushed an angry red and glared at the small Jötunn.

“Is this an example of your rules on treating captives?” Thor snarled. “Freeze them half to death and then use foul magic on them?”

Loki paced around him, letting his eyes linger on the huge muscles of Thor’s arms and thighs, the massive chest and back, the trim waist and hard abdomen, and the oh so delicious curve of those powerful buttocks. This beast was under his complete control. It took some effort to hold himself back from immediately commanding the creature to service him like an aurochs bull. 

Loki shook his head to clear his thoughts. No. He’d have to bend the Aesir carefully to his will, not force himself on the monster. For Thor to be an effective tool. Loki needed his heart and mind, not just his body.

“My orders were to keep you relatively comfortable and alive. Your guard is even now receiving his punishment for the mistreatment of a prisoner. Doubtless he had friends or relatives among those you attacked. I can hardly blame him for his sentiment, though he will pay for his actions.”

Loki tossed the new clothes at Thor. “Clothe yourself, I have duties I must perform and you have taken enough of my time.” He watched Thor dress and made no attempt at hiding his appraisal. He doused the braziers and donned his own clothing.

“As for foul magic? That bit of jewelry was made for your grandfather to enslave one of my people. Thank him for it, not me.”

Loki paused thinking for a moment.

“These are your standing orders. You will neither harm nor attempt to harm any Jötunn, not even in your own defense. You will not harm yourself. You will not attempt to escape. You will follow my directions to the best of your ability.”

Loki nodded to himself. “That should cover it for now. I have left you freedom in your thoughts and speech. Which is more mercy than your grandfather showed. Do not abuse it.”

Loki took a small jar from one of the packs and handed it to Thor.

“Put the ointment on your hands, feet, ears and nose. It will protect you from the weather. I don’t need a crippled slave and you are ugly enough as it is.” 

Thor did as he was directed and in a few moments he was bundled up from his heavy fur lined boots to the felted hat and woolen scarf that obscured his features. He could have passed for one of the warborn, save for his brilliant blue eyes. Loki had seen that warm blue color only in the records from before the war. He tore his glance away and ordered Thor to take their belongings outside and load them on the packboar. His thrall grumbled, but did as he was ordered. Loki mounted, and Thor followed his lead, taking the reins of his boar with a practiced ease. Loki was glad of his skill. Having to teach the Aesir to ride would have taken more time and he was worried about the townships. The day had warmed and he folded his cloak and tied it behind his saddle before he kicked the snowboar into a ground eating trot.

He looked critically at Thor as they rode. His posture was rigid and he gripped the reins as though he wished to tear them apart. He’d better relax or he’d be too stiff to walk by the time they reached Torsborg. The Aesir was wrapped up as though it was the depths of the long dark, instead a fairly mild day and he still looked uncomfortable. Loki wondered if he could fine tune the torc to help keep the man warm, as it had kept his great grand uncle cool. Thor was no shapeshifter, but if he could use Thor’s innate power perhaps he could ensure his charge didn’t freeze to death. He shrugged, Thor would have to deal with the weather on his own for now. Loki turned his thoughts to the problem of the degrading protection spells, letting the snowboar pick her path across the frozen land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the boys get to start their road trip. The next chapter will be from Thor's viewpoint, expect a bit of backtracking. Perhaps Odin isn't quite the total bastard. His memory of Jötnar violently stealing away his mother, only to have her die, undoubtedly colors his view of them. You don't think Borr ever told him the truth do you? 
> 
> Yes, I made Tyr, Odin's brother instead of Vili. Tyr has an uncertain parentage in myth and since this is an AU anyway, I rearranged the family tree for the lessor players. At this point in time Odin only has two children, Hela, deceased, and Thor.
> 
> On Loki and his brother's parentage. Laufey gave birth to him and Fárbauti was his sire. Býleistr and Helblindi were both sired by Laufey and Farbauti gave them birth. It makes no difference to any of them.
> 
> About pronouns. Though the Jötnar are, as Laufey says "complete in themselves", containing both male and female sex organs, I choose to use only male pronouns for them. One, because I did not want to come up with a new gender neutral pronoun, and two, I have a hell of a time separating the singular they/them from the plural they/them when I write. I get confused, loose my train of thought and there goes my story line. Finally a poor grasp of pronouns will cause a bit of fun confusion for Thor. We shall pretend that the Jotun are using their own proper pronouns and even All-speak has made a mistranslation of their language and let it go at that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's viewpoint of the last day.

The day before...

The sorcerer was true to his word. Thor struggled to his feet and stretched as much as he could with his hands still chained in front of him. The shackles, chains and cuffs were magic, that much was assured. But their very design made it difficult to try to break them. The metal was thin, and while not sharp enough to cut while wearing them, tore into his skin if he tugged too hard. But standing and being able to take the few shuffling steps the chains allowed was a relief.

The guard spoke to someone outside the tent and furs were handed inside. He was smart enough to throw them at Thor instead of coming within reach of his clenching fists. A lidded bucket was tossed at his feet, and the guard had enough courtesy to glance away while he made use of it. Thor thought for a moment of throwing the contents at the Jötunn, but decided against angering the giant. So far he’d done nothing to make Thor’s captivity harder and had in fact, regularly renewed the coals in the brazier. Thor replaced the lid and moved the bucket as far from him as he could. He folded one fur for a pallet and wrapped the other one around his shoulders and sat down. 

Another Jötunn handed in plates and steins. The guard placed one set within his reach. There were frozen pieces of some pink substance topped with a thick black layer, some raw dark red meat, a pile of pale fibrous roots and what looked like strips of seaweed. As hungry as he was, the offering looked nauseating. He tried a piece of the pink and black stuff and almost choked as it thawed in his mouth to a strong tasting fat and tough rubbery skin. He spat it out with an oath. 

“Damn you! How dare you serve me this foul mess! I am the prince of Asgard!” Thor shouted and threw the plate at the guard.

With his hands bound, all he succeeded in doing was spilling the contents across the floor while the plate bounced harmlessly off the tent wall above the Jötunn's head. The guard stood and gathered up the spilled food. When every piece was picked up, he scowled down at Thor.

“I shall not again offer you food, since you see fit to waste what does not please you. We are not so delicate a people nor so glutted for choice that we would squander a meal in a fit of temper. A few days without food will do you no harm. You are as fat as a seal.” 

The guard set the salvaged food aside and returned to his own plate. Thor saw it contained the same things he’d just rejected. The guard took bits of the dark meat and root, wrapped the seaweed around them and ate with obvious enjoyment. Thor’s stomach growled and he began to regret his hasty action. But he’d be damned if he’d beg the monster to return the poor excuse for food. Instead he lifted the lid of the stein, it smelled like beer and turned out to indeed be a kind of beer, though dark and bitter and stronger than Thor was used to. He drank it anyway and laid down on the folded fur to rest. 

Thor tried to understand Odin’s public rejection. He father was angry with him, but surely he didn’t really mean to permanently leave him to Jötnar mercy. He must be buying time to gather Asgard's army and come in force to rescue him. It was a ruse, Thor decided. Odin knew the Jötnar wouldn’t mistreat him. Even the sorcerer had said as much. Thor could handle a few more days of discomfort until Odin fell upon Jötunhiem like a hammer on the anvil. 

That reminded Thor of the loss of Mjölnir. Odin couldn’t have left him with the hammer or the Jötnar would not believe he’d disowned Thor. His father was known for his guile. Thor relaxed. Soon he would stand side by side with Odin and together they would bring these barbaric dogs to their knees. He’d personally enjoy taking that runt sorcerer, who had lured him here, back to Asgard in chains. With that comforting thought Thor slipped into his first sleep in over two days.

He was dreaming of a slender lithe body against his, the touch of a cool long fingered hand on his cheek, raven hair that fell in soft waves. He brushed the hair back only to see the mocking blue face and crimson eyes of his enemy. The shock drove him into wakefulness at the same moment that he was spilled out of his bed. He rolled the few feet allowed by the chain. 

A Jötunn was pulling away his furs, Thor quickly grasped at them but the guard pulled almost as hard as he did and the one remaining fur tore in two. Thor noticed that the Jötunn glaring down at him was not his guard from earlier, for he was shorter and wider and was the first, other then the sorcerer, he’d seen with hair. Unlike the sorcerer’s soft waves it was cut short and stood straight up from his head, and beads and shells were threaded through the spikes. His voice was different from the other Jötunn, harsh and with an accent that made it hard for Thor to understand his words.

“Why should Aesir shit be heat allowed, when in death’s cold hold Jötnar lie?” He snarled. 

He raised his hands and ice exploded from them to cover the brazier and douse the coals, more ice coated the tent's walls and layered the floor. The Jötunn smiled at Thor and picked up his latrine bucket and threw the contents over Thor. Thor was relieved when it proved to only contain water. Until the icy liquid began to soak through his clothes. The Jötunn handed the bucket out the tent flap smiled cruelly at Thor. 

“Your stench is of a beached whale’s gut. Happy are you not, that I give you the chance to bathe?

The bucket was passed back through and the Jötunn again threw its contents over Thor. Thor was shivering and trying to dodge the freezing water, but his chain only allowed him to take a few steps to either side. He wrapped the fur around himself as a protection but soon it too was soaked, as the giant continued his cruel game. Taunting the Aesir for his weakness, yet never coming within his reach. Thor’s movements slowed, became clumsier, his thoughts meandering, and the splashes of water felt oddly warm. He was stumbling, falling. He could rise no more. He was so cold and tired. He only needed a few moments of res,t then he would be able to fight again, just to close his eyes. The shivering had stopped and a quiet warmth stole over him, easing the burning pain in his hands and feet and face. The giant's taunts were far away and Thor drifted in dreams.

The sorcerer returned to Thor’s dreams, only this time the pretty blue face wasn’t taunting him. It was concerned and angry on his behalf. Bringing him from the false comfort to a painful shivering cold, then to a true warmth. One long fingered hand stroked his cheek, the other rested cool and gentle on his chest. Thor’s eyes fluttered open and the vision of his dream was real. The sorcerer was kneeling beside him, lean body almost bare, cupping his face and caressing his chest. 

For moment Thor didn’t react. The Jötunn jerked his hands away and started to speak. It was then Thor realized the chains were gone and his enemy was in his reach. He slammed the small Jötunn to the ground and tried to grasp his throat. But his hands were still clumsy and stiff, his fingers half frozen and before he could get a solid grip, the monster had slapped a torc around his neck. Thor tightened his stiff fingers in an effort to cut off the sorcerer's chanting voice but it was too late. He felt the spell take effect as a burning power seared into his nerves. He tried to rip off the torc to no avail.

“Stop.” 

Thor could no more resist the command then he could tell his heart to cease beating. The sorcerer lay panting between his thighs. He gave Thor a lascivious look that trailed down his naked body to where his cock lay against the Jötunn’s clothed groin. Thor flushed and covered himself. But his shame was not to end there. The beast made him stand naked while he looked him over from head to foot as if he were a horse at market.

“Is this an example of your rules on treating captives?” Thor snarled. “Freeze them half to death and then use foul magic on them?”

But the runt continued his gazing as he paced gracefully in a circle. Thor was uncertain whether to believe his statement that the torture was not by his order or the claim that the torc was once owned by Borr.

He paused in his leering assessment to toss clothes in Thor’s direction with an order to get dressed. Then the Jötunn posed, hips angled, one long leg extended, a hand supporting his elbow and the other holding his pointed chin, his head tilted and his crimson eyes half lidded as he watched Thor dress. His narrow pink tongue darted out more then once to brush across his pale purple lips. His small clothes did little to hide the outline of his tumescent cock. Thor was enraged that the creature dared to look at him as if he were on offer at a brothel. It was only after Thor was dressed that the shameless sorcerer clothed himself. 

Thor felt the Jötunn’s orders slide into his mind. It was a horrid feeling, not the abrupt single commands he’d received before. Those had felt like a sudden compulsion he’d not been able to resist. Forcing his body, more then his mind. These twisted into the very fabric of his being, the thought of harming a Jötunn made his stomach twist in revulsion. The sorcerer's next words were mocking. How could he have freedom in his thoughts and speech when he must weigh every word lest it cause harm? When he could not think of escape without feeling sick. Thor trembled in repressed anger as the insidious magic crawled through his mind.

Thor fought a silent battle against the torc’s spell as he loaded the packs on what was the biggest and ugliest relative of a pig he had ever seen. The thing was easily twice the size of a horse, and its long snout was covered in warts and odd protrusions. A double set of tusks protruded from its mouth and it was covered in a dense coat of course black bristles. At least it didn’t stink, too badly. He climbed up the mounting lines and pulled himself into the saddle of the riding beast, taking the reins and giving the thing a kick. It was not unlike riding a horse and the animal seemed content to follow the others. That left Thor free to focus on circumventing the intruding spell, as they rode through the shattered remains of the ancient city of Utgard. 

By the time they reached the shore, Thor had succeeded in finding some of the limits of the coercive magic. He could think of escape as an abstract concept. He could think of others in his position escaping. It was only when he thought of himself attempting to escape that the spell came to life. In addition, could think of Jötnar being harmed and even killed as long as he wasn’t the agent of their destruction. He was also allowed to consider about what the best of his ability meant. He was after all, a prisoner of war and as such his first responsibility was to his homeland. Therefore any order that could be construed as being against Asgard he would be unable to do. The very best he could do would be to ignore such orders. Thor smiled. The torc was powerful, but rather literal in its interpretation of orders. With experience and effort he could work his way around its limitations. 

He watched the figure ahead of him. The sorcerer was so sure of his controlling magic he wasn’t paying any attention to Thor whatsoever, sunk deep into his own thoughts. Thor wrenched the reins to the left, not in an attempt to escape, he thought, but merely to closely examine an interesting ruin. The spell remained quiescent as the Jötunn rode on. Thor let him get a hundred yards away before turning his mount and riding after him. There was no point in alerting him to the fact Thor was already finding ways around the torc’s constraints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The road trip will begin next chapter and viewpoints will switch from one to the other during the story with no more backtracking. I really wanted to write how Thor is dealing with what Odin did.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Road trip!

Something startled Loki out of his ruminations. He glanced back at the Aesir. Thor still followed a few paces behind the packboar. He no longer held his reins in a death grip and his posture had relaxed. Perhaps he’s been more intimidated by the large animal then he’d wanted Loki to know. These snowboar had been bred as pack and riding beasts for generations and were fairly placid of temper. There were riding neutered gilts and the larger barrow carried their supplies. Loki grinned. If the ex-prince was alarmed by the riding beasts, he’d be terrified of the warboar. He called to the man.

“To my side. There is no reason to linger at the back.” 

Loki grinned wider at Thor’s frowning expression as he was forced to kick his beast up to ride parallel beside his captor. It was petty to take such pleasure in compelling his enemy's actions, but Loki regretted it not an iota. To have such power over the son of the man who had ruined his people and caused him such personal heartbreak was sweet. It was only too bad that Odin had cast the boy off and thus was isolated from his torment. 

They turned north when they reached the shore and the wind was cool in Loki’s face. He glanced past the surging broken ice of the shoreline and out to sea. The heavy sleds of the Jötunn fishermen were anchored on the rolling pack ice. A crack as of thunder sounded across the sea. One of the great thunderbeasts, an enormous distant relative of the snowboar, was rearing up and dropping down, using its weight and claws to break through the ice in pursuit of a whale. It had been half of a pair of the beasts Laufey awakened to capture the Aesir, the other of which Thor had killed. The loss was not critical. They were one of the few animals whose numbers hadn’t plunged in the wake of the Casket’s loss. Once only found in the farthest northern ice fields, they now populated almost half of the planet. Captured young they could be trained and their ability to survive being frozen solid, meant they were able to go years without food. The wild ones were formidable opponents and Loki hoped they would not come across any. 

The booming sound of its plunging attack ceased and it dived head first into the now open water, its back claws anchoring it to the ice. Loki paused to watch. The beast’s success or failure could be the difference between a long dark of slow starvation and one of warmth, food and light. Loki could not refrain his excited,

“YES!”

when the thunderbeast wrestled out onto the ice not one of the smaller toothed whales but a young calf of the massive filter feeders. The Jötnar attending him immediately drove him off his prey. The cries of the wounded young whale would cause the rest of the pod to stay in the vicinity and the Jötnar could, with luck, harpoon one or more of the adults. Cruel as the practice was, it presented a rare opportunity and they would take full advantage of it. The filter feeders normally ranged far out to sea, their massive size and strength allowing them to break through the thick ice for their breathing holes Only the smaller of the toothed whales needed to cruise the broken surging shoreline. As powerful as the thunderbeasts were, even they could only haul the large fishing sleds so far and normally the filter feeders stayed in the deep sea. If they were this close to land they were following their food. The fisherman may even net a bounty for their prey, the massive schools of tiny silvered fish or hand sized squid the whales favored. Loki silently wished them luck, before urging his snowboar back into a trot. 

The whale calf’s plaintive singing cries carried to the shore and followed them as they rode north. Thor looked several times at the scene. The the Jötnar were doing nothing to end its obvious suffering and had even tethered the large beast away from the calf, so it could not finish off its prey.

“So your cruelty extends to torturing even unthinking animals.” Thor said.

Loki whipped his head around to take in the disgusted look on the Aesir’s face. 

“ _So_ unlike you Aesir, who only torture those who can think. Condemn not that which you know not. The more whales taken from the sea, the more whale oil to light and heat our homes in the long dark. The more food to be shared in the time of famine. If your sympathy only extends to the beasts of Jötunheim, remember it was by your father’s hand most were destroyed.”

“What lie is this? Odin only made war against the Jötnar and that because of your invasion of Midgard. If the beasts are dying it is because of the shortsightedness of your own kind in over hunting them.”

“Over hunting? Look around you fool. How are animals to survive in this ice shrouded land?”

“How should I know? I’m not from this gods abandoned frozen waste. I assume they hibernate or go south during this kind of winter weather. That monster of yours had no trouble sleeping in the ice.”

“Winter?” Loki laughed bitterly. “This is not winter boy. This is the closest Jötunhiem gets to summer since your father stole away the Casket.”

“Now I know you are lying. The Casket of Winters is a weapon.” Thor growled. “You only want it back so you can invade the other realms. My father stopped you once and he won’t allow you to try again. Neither will I, even if I have to give up my life to stop you.”

“I see. Only the Aesir are allowed to go conquering. No doubt because of your benevolent rule.” Loki said with a sneer.

“Under the Allfather’s guidance the realms are at peace. If your people are too lazy to rebuild and want to wallow in your failure, that is your own choice.”

Loki’s eyes blazed in fury and it was all he could do to keep from casting the same mouth covering spell he’d used on the disobedient guard, at the arrogant oaf. Instead he faced forward and shut his own mouth tightly. Words would not convince the ignorant man. Let him see with his own eyes the devastation Odin’s theft had caused. He heard Thor’s smug chuckle and his anger was almost overwhelming. Almost. He didn’t become the most powerful mage on Jötunheim by giving into his emotions. He focused on the calming ritual that had got him through many a hardship. He would not allow this Aesir calf to disturb his self control with its stupid bleating.

They left the broken remnants of the capital city behind and forged out across the windswept plain. Loki reclaimed his cloak from behind the saddle and Thor hunched down inside his heavy clothes. Thor wondered if the Jötunn was speaking the truth that this was not the depths of winter. The creature was dressed as Thor would on a mild fall day in lightweight clothing and cloak. His hands were uncovered and his head bare. It could of course be a lie. Everything else he’d said was either a lie or a twisting of the truth.

Had he himself not witnessed the cruelty of the Jötnar? First with the guard’s torture, second with the sorcerer's own spellbinding and thirdly with the actions of the giants’ using the cries of the wounded whale calf to lure in its parents. No Aesir would practice such a dishonorable method of hunting. They were the most despicable of the inhabitants of the nine realms. What other people would haunt the ruins of their damaged city, living like beasts and cherishing their jealousy and hatred of Asgard as though it were a prize. Why even their children were left to die in the cold. Thor remembered the story of a temple filled with horribly deformed Jötnar offspring, laid out uncovered on the great stone altar, while the priests of the cult stood outside the temple indifferent to their tormented cries. Had Laufey not attacked Odin’s army so fiercely the Allfather would have entered the temple and given the poor misbegotten creatures a final mercy. Odin still shuddered when he told the tale and wondered how long the horrible things suffered until they froze to death.

Which brought Thor’s mind around to the sorcerer. How had he escaped the fate of the other infants. Tiny size was one of the deformities Odin recounted. Was it because his father was king? Were the offspring of the nobles spared the barbaric death? The other Jötnar seemed to respect him and he bore the title of prince. He was not an only child either. Thor remembered the one he named Helblindi and inferred he was his brother. Maybe he had been allowed to live because of the magic he wielded? Thor knew the Jötnar were without honor. It was fitting that they would think the trickery of magic was worthy of respect. He realized he did not yet know the sorcerer's name. He wondered if he believed the superstition that knowing one’s name gave enemies power over the named. It was something so primitive a people would believe.

They skirted the edge of the frozen sea, the dark water that buckled the creaking ice and threw it into mounded hills was the only relief from the unending white vista of the snow covered plain. The ruins of Utgard had disappeared behind them, swallowed up by distance. Thor’s eyes began to tear and burn and he rubbed them in an attempt to ease the ache. The grey day was darkening, the temperature was dropping and still they pushed on. He wondered if the sorcerer was going to ride through the night. Thor was starting to shiver in the cold and his hands and feet were going numb. He beat his hands together and tucked them under his arms in an attempt to regain feeling. The Jötunn glanced at him, sighed dramatically, looked around and headed them toward a low mound. He led them around the leeward side of the hillock and stopped. Thor was grateful to be out of the driving wind.

“We will camp here this evening. Unload the packboar while I attend to the others. Do you know how to set up a tent?” He said.

“Of course I know how to set up a tent. I have been on many a hunt.” Thor answered.

The Jötunn looked doubtful, but said nothing further. He unsaddled the two riding animals and hobbled them. He took large sack from the supplies Thor was unloading and poured a pile of feed in front of two gilts. When the barrow was unloaded he led it to the others and it was hobbled and fed in turn. As Thor unfolded the tent and struggled to make sense of the unfamiliar configuration, the Jötunn combed out the animals, tugging on their ears and scratching them under their chins while they grunted in obvious pleasure and prodded back at him. It was the first act of anything resembling kindness Thor had seen of the Jötnar. It didn’t fit with his view of them as hard unfeeling beasts and he wondered if the sorcerer was doing it in an attempt to gain his trust. Thor scowled. He wasn’t going to fall for the feigned affection. He returned to his task. He'd spread out the tent on the flattest piece of ground and where it was sheltered by the hillock, but could not find the control panel to stiffen the fabric. He’d tried pressing on several of the different colored bands that framed the entrance but the thing lay unmoving on the ground. 

Loki finished with the snowboar. They were affectionate animals and the bit of attention he gave them was returned with gentle snout rubs and playful grabs at his cloak or hair. The interaction had relaxed him and he turned back to help the Aesir set up camp. Only to find the man had accomplished little more than unrolling the tent. For some reason he was fascinated by the woven designs and was running his mitted hands over them. 

“I thought you knew how to assemble a tent.” Loki said. 

He brushed past Thor to unwrap the the tent poles. Made from the ribs of toothed whales they were carved to a supple thinness and naturally arched. He showed Thor how to slide them into the inside pockets and lace them in place. 

“On Asgard our tents don’t require such a primitive structure.” Thor said. “The material stiffens at a touch.” 

“And doubtless softens just as quickly.” Loki said.

“Of course.” Thor replied. 

“While here our tents take time and care to be erected. Once up they can withstand the force of a blizzard. Can yours brag of such staying power?” Loki tilted his head and smiled at Thor.

Thor suddenly had the feeling that they were not speaking of temporary shelters anymore. He flushed and the sorcerer grinned wider. 

“I’ll leave you to get better acquainted with our primitive technology.” Loki said. 

He unpacked their food and sorted out two portions. He remembered the way the Aesir was shivering and dug out the brazier and poured a handful of coal into it. Loki concentrated until a fire was kindled. He went to the windward side and dug a potful of clean snow and carried it back to set on the fire to melt. It took less time to melt snow then the ice he could have conjured. Loki added salt and seaweed and Thor’s seal meat and groundroot into the pot and left it to boil. He sat cross legged in the snow and ate his portion cold. He had no need to heat the raw seal meat and the groundroot had already been cooked. The peasbread was fresh baked that morning and the cook had included a small packet of reindeer butter. He washed the food down with beer brewed from bitter root and honey. The beer was smoother than normal, and had more of a kick from the fermented honey. The extra alcohol warmed Loki. So little honey was produced by the bees before they went dormant for the winter it was rare to add it to anything. But the royal family could be assured of at least one cask of honeyed beer a year. Thor finally finished with the tent and came out for his meal. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of the cooking stew. 

“What is that? It smells of fish and beef together.” 

“Seal.” Loki answered he popped a small piece of whale blubber in his mouth and began to chew.

Thor grimaced and turned away from him.

“Have you no proper food? No beef or mutton?”

“Neither your tender sheep nor cattle would survive our winters. We have muskox, but they are two valuable for their wool to slaughter and reindeer and woolly aurochs which are only slaughtered before the long dark. Seal come ashore to pup and bred so are available this time of year. We can harvest fish now and whale when the hunters are lucky.” Loki said and refilled his cup, this brewing was truly one of best he’d had in years.

Thor grumbled as he ate his meal, complaining of the way the bread crumbled in his hand, the odd taste of the butter and how the seaweed had thickened the stew. The only thing that met his grudging approval was the beer. He absolutely refused to try the blubber again and Loki shrugged. The idiot was going to make himself sick by only eating cooked meat, and refusing a source of fat in this unforgiving land was not only foolish but potentially deadly. Loki again refilled his mug and Thor’s, there was no point in replugging the small cask with so little left inside. He was a little hazy about how it had gone so quickly, but it had been a trying day and the Aesir could put away a fair amount of beer himself.

Loki lit the whale oil lamp, then capped the brazier to douse the coal. For a small tent like this the oil lamp would easily heat it. The fumes from the coal were noxious enough with a smoke hole, without one they were unbearable. Besides the Aesir was layered in clothing and had a family’s worth of furs to nest with. He threaded on the pierced cap and handed the lamp to Thor.

“This will do for tonight. There’s a lamp stone in the packs.” 

Loki stood and pulled off his cloak. It was too warm for a cloak without the wind hitting him, and with a belly full of the warming brew.

“Do you mean us to freeze?” Thor asked.

“It is hardly cold enough to freeze seawater and there is no wind. You will be fine.” 

Loki hunted in his inter-dimensional pockets before pulling out his rune staff. He leaned on it for a moment. That beer was more potent then he remembered. Had he grabbed a cask of one of the fortified ones that Bly was always experimenting with? It certainly felt like it. He shook his head in a futile effort to clear it. 

“It is too cold for anything but a Jötunn savage to survive the night.” Thor growled.

“Scrub the dishes and repack them, Aesir. I have to set the boundary.” Loki answered.

“I have a name!” Thor said.

“As do I. But you have not the courtesy to ask it.” 

Loki stuck the end of the staff in the snow and walking backwards, began tracing a line around the camp. The line was wavering and he stumbled over a rough spot in the ice.

“Nor have you introduced yourself.” Thor shot back. 

He cleaned the dishes with handfuls of snow, shook them out and put them away. Loki was glad he at least knew how to perform that without prompting.

“It is the responsibility of the lessor to ask the name of the greater.” At Thor’s belligerent lift of his chin, Loki continued. “Need I remind you, that here I am a prince while you are only a slave.”

Thor placed his mitted hands around the oil lamp to warm them. He considered if knowing the sorcerer’s name was worth giving him the satisfaction of Thor agreeing to his lessor status. If he was to throw his captor off guard perhaps a false show of humility was in order.

“On Asgard it it the other way around.” Thor said. “What then are you called.?” 

Loki paused, wiped his brow. He really had, had too much too drink. He was going to give Bly the face of tunnel rat for not labeling his experiments. He pulled off his shirt, stuffed it in the back of his pants and continued marking out the circle.

“Skytreader, Wolfwalker, Trickster am I called.” Loki chanted as he danced the last few steps of his tracing. “Spellweaver, AesirBane, Jötunheim’s last prince.” 

He pushed his hair back from his eyes with one hand and sent his seidr flowing around the completed ring in a softly glowing ribbon of light. He grinned at Thor.

“But my name is Loki Laufeyjarson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are sharing a pup tent! Snuggles! Ok maybe not snuggles.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little fun, sweet dreams and more truth for Thor.

Thor watched the Jötunn with trepidation. The earlier flirting, he was sure it was flirting, had set him on edge. The bastard could force him to do anything he wanted and his strange behavior now was worrying. The sorcerer acted as if he were drunk, whereas the same drink only warmed and relaxed Thor. This honeyed ale did have a better kick then the bitter beer he’d had back at the camp. Thor had mistaken the strong taste of the beer as having more alcohol, but it became apparent that it was no more than small beer made of strange herbs. His heavy sleep was caused by exhaustion.

But the sorcerer, Loki, Thor amended, was definitely buzzed. There was a purple flush to his cerulean cheeks, his normally graceful movements were swaying and overly theatrical and his expression had softened. He had been unusually free with the drink, filling his own and Thor’s mug every time they had emptied till there was no more in the small cask. Thor wondered if it was all an act, right up until the Jötunn finished his little dance, spun in a circle, tripped over his staff and face planted in the snow.

Thor couldn’t help the laugh that was startled out of him.

Loki raised his head, blinked owlishly at the stupid barbarian, (beautiful, stupid barbarian his libido corrected) laughing at him. 

“That was not funny.” Loki said pulling himself to his feet. “There was a rock.” He sounded more petulant then masterly, even to his own ears.

He kicked at the blameless, rock-less snow, sending a shower of clumps toward the Aesir. To his surprise, Thor responded by grabbing a handful, tamping it into a snowball and throwing it back. It exploded harmlessly on Loki’s shoulder. Loki bent over, almost fell again and got hit by another snowball as he scooped up his own handful. He thought for a moment of using his magic to return the barrage and quickly abandoned the idea. He could end up killing the idiot by accident, drunk as he was. But drunk or sober, he’d freeze in hel before he let a Aesir beat him in a snowball fight.

Thor's automatic response to getting a face full of snow was to return it in kind and the snowball was out of his hands before he even thought about it. The fact that the torc didn’t trigger after his act was a relief. His own knowledge that his counterattack was harmless seemed to prevent any reprisal. He packed a second snowball as the Jötunn bent clumsily over and it smacked Loki on the thigh. Thor enjoyed the way it made the sorcerer stagger. At last he had a way to take out some of his frustrations. He was making his third missal when a high pitched whistle caused him to look up. Loki’s snowball caught him square in the face and the Jötunn’s own laughter rang out. Thor hastily swiped snow out of his eyes only to get a second blinding hit. He roared and charged toward Loki, caught up in the game and his desire to drop the sorcerer in the snow. He took a third snowball to the face. 

Loki was laughing hard as Thor blundered blindly about. He dodged the clumsy charge and throwing yet another snowball, danced backward out of the Aesir’s way. Thor was laughing as well and his throws were going wide of the mark more often than naught. All would have been well, had Loki not hit Thor in the face yet again, promptly stumbled over a tent line and landed on his ass. A temporarily sightless Thor tripped over Loki, landed on top of him and knocked the Jötunn’s breath out in a painful wheeze. 

Thor’s sharp scream ended the playful encounter. The Aesir rolled off Loki and curled into a ball. He shuddered in agony as fire burned over his nerves in retaliation for hurting the sorcerer. Loki cursed. He’d not intended to harm Thor. 

“No! You should not be punished for an accident.” Loki cried out. 

The pain ceased and Thor uncurled and lay panting on his back in the snow. He looked at the sorcerer with narrowed eyes. Loki knelt beside him, reached a hand out and withdrew it. He worried his lower lip with sharp white teeth. Thor felt a sudden urge to grab him, pull him down and taste those thin lips. He snarled at the thought, chasing it away. 

Loki scrambled up and backed away, pale green light circling his raised hands. At the sudden glow of magic, Thor sat up, still twitching from pain. What had he been thinking, to play with his captor? It must be the torc, bending him to the Jötunn’s will. He shivered at the possibility and then shivered again harder. The exercise had warmed him enough to sweat under the heavy clothing and now the sweat was cold against his skin. He was going to be in for an uncomfortable night. 

Loki watched the Aesir, but the snarl was not followed by further signs of aggression. The torc had reminded Thor who was in control and it was obvious he blamed Loki for his own clumsiness. Loki was angry at himself for forgetting that he was dealing with a vicious animal. This was a man who had attacked and killed Jötnar warriors for being called by the name of a high ranking female. Loki had been horrified at the violence the word ‘princess’ invoked. It was better that he not forget it. If Thor so despised the women of his own kind, he would have little love for one of his sworn enemies.

Loki recalled his seidr when Thor only glared at him and rose to his feet. He noticed the man was shivering violently. For all his strength in other areas, the Aesir was ridiculously vulnerable to the slightest drop in temperature. Loki motioned him into the tent and picked up the lamp stone and lamp himself, glad it had remained upright during the foolish fight. He crawled in next to the Aesir and handed him the lamp to place on his far side. Thor set up the lamp and immediately burrowed under the furs, coiling around the lamp stone. Loki was warm enough to peel off his outer clothing and lay on top of the winter bedding in his undershorts. He wished he’d thought to pack one of the cedar bark sheets imported from the south. They were luxury items, as the cedar trees were fewer in number every year. But it would be cooler than laying on the leather side of the furs. He really had to do something about Thor’s lack of cold tolerance. He resolved to attend to it in the morning when his head wasn’t so foggy. Loki sighed, feeling sweat gather under his shoulder blades. He was going to be in for an uncomfortable night.

Buried under the furs and curled around the stone Thor warmed enough to drop into sleep. The glimpse of Loki lying almost naked, flushed and sweating beside him was bothersome. On the one hand it only reminded Thor of how unnatural the Jötunn was, that he found this below freezing weather too warm. On the other hand Thor found his mind traveling back to the lean muscled body, the long limbs, the delicate structure of his face. It didn’t help that he smelled like cedar and male sweat and a hint of something else that gnawed at the edge of his memory. 

The scent followed him into dreams and Loki danced bare chested and elusive, just out of his grasp or turning to snow in his clutching hands. His laughter rang in Thor’s ears and he wanted to catch the bastard pin him down and ...and … the arms opened up, the lips parted. Thor found Loki cool and supple and welcoming under him. No heavy clothes to block their skin to skin contact, no punishing pain that burned through his brain. Loki’s crimson eyes were soft and half lidded, the violet flush warming his cheeks, his lips hot under Thor’s. The long legs spread wide and Thor sank into a cool slickness that closed around him, and fanned the fire in his blood, making him hotter and hotter, the once mocking voice whispering his name over and over.

Thor woke panting, blinking up at the roof of the tent. He was flushed and too warm, his cock hard against his belly. His dream followed him into drowsy wakefulness and he could still hear the Jötunn’s whispered words. It wasn’t until he felt the weight on his chest and pressure against his hip that he understood that part of his dream was real. The sorcerer was lost in sleep, one arm slung over Thor and tucked into his side. His hips barely moved as he rutted on the furs, Thor’s name spilling from his parted lips. Even as Thor watched in surprise the Jötunn sighed and shivered in release before relaxing into a deeper slumber. 

Thor eased up onto his elbows. The lamp was dim but when he lifted it up, it shed enough light to show the flushed face of the unconscious Jötunn. His breathing was slow and with the lines of tension smoothed away, he looked young and vulnerable. There was sadness in the soft downturn of the corner of his mouth. Thor wondered how old he was. Loki stirred enough to turn on his back and raise his arm over his eyes.

Thor quickly put the lamp back down. He’d seen the evidence that the Jötunn wasn’t just playing at an elaborate ruse. He knew now that the sorcerer really did want to fuck him. His flirting was serious. It had to be his desire which was giving Thor these unwanted dreams. He was being influenced by the torc, coerced to the Jötunn’s lust as he slept. He needed to be careful to recognize the intruding visions for what they were, magic designed to enslave his will. That notion cooled any lingering arousal. He lay back down, vowing to banish any further dreams of the pretty sorcerer. His mind turned on itself in agitation. How could he know which thoughts were his own and which were caused by the spell binding him? The night dragged on, and it was hours before he finally settled into a restless sleep. 

Loki awoke shivering in the cool morning air. He sat up and immediately was aware of a pounding headache, a queasy belly and the dried mess that stuck his underwear to his groin. He hadn’t had a wet dream in decades. It was embarrassing to have one while sleeping beside the Aesir. He glanced over, thankful Thor was still snoring softly. Loki peeled off the offending material and wiped himself down as best he could. He’d need to go outside and scrub up before getting dressed. He gathered his clothes and new undershorts from his pack and crawled out of the tent. He didn’t notice that Thor’s snoring had stopped or that the Aesir was giving his bare butt an appraising look as he exited.

Loki cleaned up, dressed, and made a cup of herbal tea for his headache and unsettled stomach. He repacked their supplies, fed the snowboar and laid out their breakfast before he went to wake Thor. Loki had decided to let him sleep, partly because the Aesir had had a trying day, but mostly because he wanted to compose himself. His attraction to the man was getting out of hand. Thor’s playful side had caught him by surprise. He didn’t want to like the surly, violent warrior. It was one thing to lust after his body, but Loki had no intention of forming an attachment to Thor himself. Not when the plan he was forming in his mind had a very real chance of resulting in the ex-prince’s death.

Thor woke to a hand shaking his shoulder. He peered at Loki in the dim light filtered through the narrow door. Smoke writhed his face and figure, worse than it was when he’d woken earlier to the sight of the naked Jötunn’s tight little ass leaving the tent. Which was strange, the lamp had burned out and there was no smoky smell to account for the haze. He blinked and rubbed his gritty eyes. That resulted in more haze and a burning pain that caused his eyes to tear. He pushed the Jötunn’s hand away and sat up.

“What is wrong with your eyes?” Loki asked. “They are almost as red as mine.”

“I should ask you. Is it not more of your foul magic to steal away my sight.”

Loki sat back on his heels and studied Thor’s face.

“Hold still.” He commanded. He grasped Thor’s chin and leaned so close Thor thought he was going to kiss him, but all he did was to push Thor’s eyelids wider apart. 

“Your nictitating membrane is severely deformed. I had thought it was clear as the seals’ are, but it doesn’t seem to function at all. Why did you not tell me this?”

“What are you talking about?” Thor asked.

Loki blinked and his eyes changed color as the red slide aside to reveal clear whites, irises of deep bluish green and black pinpointed pupils. Thor was startled to see Aesir eyes in a Jötunn’s face. He blinked again and the red shield snapped back into place. 

“I take it none of your kind has any protection against the light? It is a wonder you Aesir have managed to survive at all. Don’t rub them you’ll only do more damage.”

Loki pulled Thor’s hands away from his tearing eyes.

“You’ll have to cover them until we reach Torsborg. I can create an ointment to speed healing there, but I’ve not all of the ingredients with me. Have you any other frailties I should know of?”

“Have no frailties as you put it. It’s not my fault your world is such a frozen hel.”

“No.” Loki said backing out of the tent. “That responsibility lies with your father. Keep your eyes shut until I can make you a blindfold.”

“How do I know this is not another trick? If Jötnar are protected against this affliction why would you know how to cure it?”

Thor heard Loki’s irritation in the clipped tones of his voice. “I would hardly make this journey harder by causing you to be even more useless. As for how I know to heal snow blindness? A damaged or missing nictitating membrane is only one of the many gifts the warborn have to thank Odin for.”

Thor hear Loki return. 

“Open your eyes and keep them open. This will not speed healing but it should ease the irritation somewhat.” Loki said.

Thor compiled and kept his eyes open without blinking as Loki spread a layer of soft cold ointment over them. He still hadn’t blinked when Loki finished, thought tears were running down his cheeks. Loki frowned at him and then realized what was going on. 

“By the Norns, Thor, you could ask to shut your eyes, you stubborn fool." Loki shook his head at his thrall's stupid pride. "Shut them if you wish or go blind for all I care. From now on, unless I tell you it is a command, my words are a request rather then an order. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Thor replied blinking his eyes closed. The ointment did relieve some of the burning, and his decision to not ask permission had earned him another bit of freedom. He thought back on Loki’s words.

“What do you mean by the warborn?” He asked as Loki affixed a blindfold around his head.

“Is your ignorance so vast that you truly do not know?” Loki asked.

“Jötunheim is not a world..” Thor almost said ‘worthy of study’ but caught himself at the last minute. “I have studied much.”

If Loki heard the pause, he choose not to comment on it. 

“I would have thought you studied it not at all. The warborn are Jötnar like myself. Born after your father stole the Casket of Winters. We carry the mark of his cruelty in our flesh.”

“You seem well enough.” Thor answered, thoughtlessly.

“Ah so you would deem it well,” Loki said with bitterness, “if you had only grown to the stature of a child of four, rather than to a man’s full height? What a fine Aesir king you would have made then, having to struggle to climb onto Hliðskjál and your feet dangled off the edge of the throne once you were seated. I’m sure Odin would have considered you a worthy successor.” 

Loki backed out of the tent leading Thor with a hand on his shoulder. Once outside Loki seated him by the brazier and handed him a plate and a cup.

Thor could think of no answer to Loki's words. To him, Loki was of normal, even tall height and the rest of the Jötnar were oversized monsters. He’d not considered what it was like to live among them, everything too large and being small enough to be mistaken for a child. He realized all of the equipment, from the saddles, to the dishes, to the clothing they wore, were specially made to fit Loki. But that could not be completely correct, Thor considered. Loki was not as large as he, yet the borrowed clothes were a bit loose, though not of adult Jötnar size. They were also not in the same sleek style as Loki’s fitted outfit. He must be dressed in children’s clothing. The thought was humiliating.

Thor asked. “Have you attired me as a child for insult's sake? Whose clothing am I wearing?” 

“My son’s.” Loki snapped. “Now eat your meal and be silent. You have pushed my patience far enough this morning. That is a command.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki is fed up with this helpless blundering Aesir, and Thor is pissed at being treated like a fool because he's unfamiliar with Jötenheim. More road trip to follow, even if Thor won't get to see the scenery.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Road trip continues. A confusing conversation. Thor contemplates.

The wind was cold, sifting through the loose weave of the cloak as it flattened it against his back. His hair twisted and tangled his before his face, caught in the swirling breeze and he took his hand from his captive’s broad shoulder to push it back, smooth the locks into a semblance of order and tuck the straying ends behind his ears. Thor sat unmoving, the tendons prominent in his throat, his nostrils flared, his broad hands clenched on his saddle. Loki was ensuring the makeshift blindfold would stay in place and he was tacking it with looping stitches to Thor’s hat. The bone needle had pricked the Aesir on his cheek when his mount shifted and a thin ruby thread trickled into his beard. He’d cursed at Loki, all out of proportion to the tiny unintentional wound and Loki’s tight lipped expression would have warned any who knew him to back away. Thor however, couldn’t see his face and it was doubtful he would have heeded the warning anyway. 

******  
Earlier Loki had spent precious hours modifying the torc’s magic and testing the results. The temperature had continued to drop, unseasonably cold even for Jötunheim’s damaged climate. Thor would not survive it for long unaided and Loki was angry that he had to take time to accommodate his fragile thrall, when his own people’s lives were in danger. He’d managed to tease out the original spell that allowed Bestla to live on sweltering Asgard. Luckily the dwarves had included a way to adjust the cooling magic so it could be shut off or even reversed by the wearer. 

More than one mage smith had created this, the innocuous acclimatizing function was original to the torc, but the spells that bent the magic to another’s will were added after. As Loki had hoped, the torc was tapping into Thor’s own hidden sorcerous power, channeling it to keep him under Loki’s control. It now became a matter of resetting the spell so Thor’s body could take the cold. But Thor was no shapeshifter and Loki had to carefully activate each layer of the magic, checking with Thor to see he was uninjured. Loki didn’t dare try to fine tune his orders to keep Thor to only answering when questioned, he needed to know the instant something went wrong. Loki regretted his decision to allow the Aesir to speak freely.

For speak Thor did. Again voicing his doubt on the cause of his snow blindness. Complaining about the weather, the smell of the snowboar, the food and the fit of his clothing. Demanding answers instead of asking questions. Where were they going? What did Loki intend to do with him? If Loki was a prince, then where was his bodyguard? 

Loki knew part of this was Thor’s uneasiness at being helpless and dependent on Loki for his very life. It was a way for him to reclaim some control over his situation. But it was annoying, distracting and when Thor’s questions blundered into the realm of his personal life absolutely intolerable.

“You have a son? You are married?”

Loki ignored the first rhetorical question and snapped, 

“Jötnar do not marry. That is an Aesir custom.” 

He sent a tendril of seidr around another section of the protection spell and slowly fitted it into place. Thor made a strangled cry and Loki released the section allowing it drift back.

“What happened this time?” 

“It felt like my lungs were on fire.”

“And now? Any residual damage?”

“No I’m fine. Do you then mate like beasts and part after without regard?”

“We do not own one another. What partner one chooses is between them and no one else. How long partners stay together is also their business.”

Loki bit his tongue in concentration, tugging bits of the spell into another configuration and tried again. It slipped into place this time without comment. Thor took a deep breath and another.

“Well?” Loki asked.

“I can breathe easier, the air feels warmer. You allow your women to be taken by other men, or do you hold them all in common?

“Neither. We are not Aesir. As I said, partners do not own one another, neither another’s body, nor will, nor property, nor labor.”

Loki wrestled with the next layer of the spell.

“What of the children? If your women is laying with whoever she wants, then how do you know the child is yours? How do you ensure you don’t raise another man’s offspring or make sure she doesn’t decide to leave you for another man?”

Loki paused in his spell crafting. He could not believe how thickheaded Thor was. The level of barbarity in Aesir culture implied by his questions was horrifying.

“Why would you wish to force one who no longer cares for you, to stay in your presence? The bearer knows the child they birth. The parentage of children is not a Jötnar problem.” 

He fitted another piece of the spell into place. It slide home easily and Loki could see Thor relaxing.

“Feeling warmer?”

“Yes.” 

“Let me know if you become too warm. I am almost finished.”

“Of course a mother knows their child. But what of the father?”

“The father is dead.” Loki growled. “And that is enough questions.”

Loki snapped the final layer into place not caring if it hurt the idiot. Thor was silent for once. He removed the heavy outer layers of clothing and pulled off the mittens with a knitted brow. Loki added the discarded clothes to Thor’s saddle pack. If anything happened to the spell he didn’t want to waste time unpacking the barrow while the Aesir froze to death. Loki shoved him toward his animal, helped him mount and took the reins as he climbed onto his own beast. A kick in the ribs and both snowboar jolted to their feet. It was a late start and Loki had every intention of reaching Torsborg by nightfall.

******

Thor had ridden quietly for the past few hours, lost in thought. Unable to see and reliant on Loki’s guidance, he was left to ruminate about the Jötunn’s words. The crunch of the animal’s broad hooves on the snow was monotonous. There were no bird calls, no sighing of branches in the breeze, not even the howling of wolves. The silence was getting to Thor and he began to wonder if the Jötunn had simply dismounted and left him alone to wander aimlessly across this barren waste. It was a stupid thought, but it grew in his mind larger and larger until he found himself reaching for the blindfold to try to steal a glimpse of his captor. 

“Stop fussing with that. Your eyes won’t heal if you keep lifting it up.”

Thor took his hand away. He’d seen nothing but a blur of white anyway. However the Jötunn’s voice assured him he wasn’t alone. If he was to be abandoned, the sorcerer would hardly have bothered to see to his comfort. As Thor thought about it he realized, though he’d been warm enough at first, as the day wore on he was getting cooler and cooler. Nothing as cold as he had been before, where every breath hurt his lungs and his exposed flesh was numb in seconds. The weather now felt like a brisk fall day that was would end in in a hard frost. It was worrisome. Was the spell fading? The wind had picked up too. He could feel the brush of snowflakes on his cheeks like soft cool kisses. Which brought his thoughts back to the Jötunn prince. 

That phrase “The father is dead.” was it a Jötnar saying, meant to imply the father of a child didn’t matter? If so, why did Loki say it with such venom? Did he suspect the son he had was not his own? Allspeak only translated those terms which Thor knew. There was something off about their conversation. He felt like half the time Loki was answering for himself and the other half for the Jötnar as a whole, and Thor wasn’t sure which was which.

If the Jötnar had no formal commitments then how could they function as a society? Without stable families and proper lines of inheritance how was property passed on? No wonder they hadn’t rebuilt if they had fallen into the habit of such degenerate behavior. That reminded him of his own disturbing dreams. The sorcerer was undoubtedly lusting after him and the torc was causing Thor to be influenced by his unwanted desire. Though thinking of Loki’s earlier words about the difficulties of being small among the giants perhaps he simply wished a partner of his own size. Thor didn’t want to think of Loki trying to mount a giantess. But he must have, for the clothes Thor was wearing were a child’s clothes. Therefore Loki’s son must be, or would grow to, the size of a normal frost giant. Thor wondered if the woman was still around, still a part of Loki’s life. The idea displeased him. 

He reached under the blindfold and rubbed his irritated eyes. He hated this helplessness. Hated depending on the goodwill of the thrice damned sorcerer.

“Are you a child? I try to allow you some freedom but you have no self-control. I command you to keep your hands off the blindfold and away from your eyes.”

Thor’s hands dropped back to the saddle and he growled in frustration. He was going to… his mind skidded around the thought of harming the sorcerer. No, he wasn’t going to strangle the life out of the uppity bastard. Not do what he’d tried before. He replayed the memory of his hands around Loki’s throat, the almost naked Jötunn under him. That image was pleasant enough that he smiled. Were he Aesir, and not an enemy, Thor would have no reservations about fucking him. Even though he was a Jötunn, Thor could not deny Loki was handsome in face and form. His skin was pleasantly cool to the touch, not deadly freezing cold. Were their situation reversed, it would be a pleasure to flip him onto his belly and plunge into the depths of his tight blue ass. Thor stopped that line of thinking. 

Damn this insidious magic. His eyes burned and he blinked them, then rubbed the side of his face on his shoulder trying to get some relief. He heard Loki’s exasperated “Fuck!” and lifted his head back up. The Jötunn wasn’t the one having to ride for hours in the dark with his eyes aching and his thoughts racing around in circles. Couldn’t he have the slightest sympathy? Or did Jötunn simply lack the capacity for such things. The whale calf killing was a prime example of their heartlessness. 

But was that custom instead of nature? Other than their size and color were Aesir and Jötnar really so different? He’d thought them more akin to trolls when he first saw them. Their armor fit so smoothly and was so subtly colored, that it blended into their bodies. The lines on their skin added to the effect, but they were only markings, not the edges of an insect like carapace as he had first supposed. During his short time in the camp he had seen other Jötnar with hair besides Loki and the guard. Thor wondered if it was something they all had and shaved off by preference. The vast gulf of his ignorance yawned before him. It was not a comfortable feeling and it made him irritable. He shook his head trying to clear his mind.

The blindfold slipped down, the felted cloth scarf too thick to stay in place with his agitated movements. He squinted his eyes shut and lifted his arm as a blinding ray of light lanced into his brain.

“By the Norns!"Loki said. "Do you mean to make yourself permanently blind so you will be even more of a burden? Can you bear not the slightest discomfort?”

“Can you conjure nothing better than this? It’s not my fault the damn thing won’t stay on. I thought you were a sorcerer? So far you’ve done little more than draw colored lights in the snow.”

The gilt stopped under him and he felt the press of the Jötunn’s beast against his thigh as he reined it around.

“I have wasted enough time and power on you. Have you forgotten so soon that my seidr is the only reason you are still alive?”

“You merely grasped how to get this damned torc to work. Considering you had a day and a half to work on it I can’t say I’m impressed.” 

“Shall I remove it then Aesir, and see how well you fare on your own?”

A hand was placed on his shoulder and Thor drew back.

“Hold still so I can replace the cloth. I told you before I won’t kill you, as tempting as you make it. You are wasting my time and I have important work to do. If you cause me to be too late.” Loki took a deep breath and Thor could hear the anger in his voice. “I will not kill you, but I will make you wish I had.”

“Important work?” Thor jeered. “What important work could a mage have? Researching another trick so you can dishonorably defeat better men? I never saw you in the battle. What kind of prince hides behind his warriors? I’m certain you never led an army into battle in your life.”

“I can say with pride that no, I have never led an invading army into another world for the sole pleasure of slaughtering its inhabitants to feed my over blown ego.” 

The blindfold was replaced and the Jötunn’s hand again rested on his shoulder. Thor felt something tugging at his hat and moving the cloth across his face.

“On Jötunheim a prince works for his people. He does not spend his time in the murderous pursuit of war or wasteful pleasure hunting or seducing partner after partner, please excuse the crudeness of my words, in order to mate like an animal. My tricks, as you call them are what keep my people safe from the ravages your father visited upon them.”

Thor felt a sharp stick on his cheek and jerked back. 

“Damn you! What are you doing?”

“Securing your blindfold so you can’t toss it off like an unruly reindeer. If you keep jerking about you will end up with a needle in your eye.”

Thor sat still as the blindfold was stitched in place. 

“I do not pursue war. I defend the realms. That is my duty.” Thor growled.

“And I defend my people, which is mine!” Loki said and his voice was frost. “Now be silent. I am sick of your prejudice, your insults and your stupid bluster. I have treated you with consideration at no little expense to myself and you have acted not as a prince but as a churl. You boast of the honor of Asgard but all I see is the whining of a spoiled brat.”

Thor clamped his mouth shut as rage surged through him. That this beast, this dishonorable trickster should question his honor! A spoiled brat! Odin’s words from his enemy’s mouth stung all the sharper. How was he supposed to behave? Should he lick his captor’s boots and thank him for the privilege? What if the Jötunn were in his place? What if he were hauled through the streets of Asgard on a chain? 

Thor could see it and the image sobered him. The Jötunn wouldn’t snap and snarl like a wounded beast. He wouldn’t throw insults and rage at the Aesir. No. He would walk silent and proud and never so much as acknowledge their presence with a glance. His would be the iciest of courtesies. Loki would be the epitome of princely conduct.

Shame washed over Thor. The Jötunn was right. He had been behaving abominably. Thor let go of his anger. His enemy had fooled him, but he was the one who had been a fool ever since.

Loki tied off the thread and moved his mount away. The snowboar under Thor started moving again. He could hear Loki’s agitated breathing.

“You are right.” Thor said.

“What?” Loki said sharply. 

“I have not been acting as I should.”

“Truly?” Loki’s supercilious tone irritated Thor, but he wasn’t going to let it get under his skin.

“Despite the circumstances of my capture I should not have forgotten my manners. I assure you it was not how I was raised.” 

Loki made a hmmm sound, but said nothing more. 

They rode on into the increasing cold and Thor shivered, remembered his coat, pulled it from his saddle pack and put it on. That was an improvement. He took the mittens from his pockets and donned them also. He wondered again if the spell was failing. He doubted it. Loki had clearly seen him and had made no comment. The weather was worsening. 

Thor considered how warm it was on Asgard, the flowers would be starting their first flush of blooms in his mother’s garden. He remembered Frigga’s quiet composure in the most trying of circumstances. Her wisdom and calm words that brought his father to reason. The thought came that she would like Loki. She would like his arrogant assurance and irritated efficiency and his quick clever tongue. She would not be pleased with Thor. Neither with his rash decision to invade Jötunheim nor his actions since arriving. He wondered, for the first time in days, how his mother was doing. The thought of her worrying about him while he had never spared a moment to consider her, made him feel even more ashamed. 

“Loki.” Thor addressed the Jötunn by his name for the first time.

“Yes?” Loki’s voice carried the tone of annoyance but he had answered.

“Would it be possible, to send a letter to my mother so she knows I am well? I would not have her worry on my account.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, is that a possible reconciliation on the far horizon?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ride continues. A lot of thinking on Loki's part. A harrowing adventure and its aftermath. An old friend met and a bit of truth revealed.

Loki distrusted Thor’s apology. It did not fit with what he had seen of the hotheaded Aesir. He would wait to see if Thor’s actions followed his words. If the man was sincere then there was hope that Loki could turn him to his plan. He had begun to think that his idea was impossible, given Thor’s stubbornness and unwarranted arrogance, and that he would be reduced to wielding him like a club against the Allfather. Loki snorted at Odin’s pretentious self-conferred title. If his brutal treatment of Thor and Hela was any indication of his parenting skills, it was quite accurate. He had treated the nine realms with a similar lack of compassion. 

Loki eyed the man now riding quietly beside him. What must it have been like to grow up under the hand of one who could so quickly abandon and even kill his own children? Had Thor felt the withdrawal of his father’s love on previous occasions? Was approval something the Aesir made their children strive for? Or was Odin the only one who demanded obedience for his affection? Was that what made the ex-prince so defensive that he weighed every interaction as a possible insult?

Loki had considered him spoiled and pampered, but underneath Asgard’s physical comforts, it seemed Thor must constantly strive to earn that which even the poorest of Jötunn freely gave their children. How terrible to know, that should he not be considered worthy enough, his parent would cast him off or even kill him. His elder sister’s death must weigh heavy on his mind.

Loki pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. It was too thin for this wind and he considered stopping to unpack heavier clothing from the barrow, but he decided to press on. Torsborg lay no more than an hour north and if they stopped now the snowboar would be reluctant to get moving again in the rising storm. Loki reached out with his seidr and checked their position. They had drifted to the west and he corrected their path. He’d have to do it more often as visibility was dropping as night closed down around them. The storm worried him. Thunderbeasts used the weather to cover their stalking attacks. There were no reports of the creatures this close to the town, but that was little comfort. They were unpredictable and three snowboar would make a nice meal for one. 

Movement caught his attention, but it was only the Aesir getting his coat and mittens on. Loki noted that there were limits to the protective spell. Another brush of seidr confirmed it was holding steady. He kicked the gilt into a trot. She was slowing down, responding both to the long day and her instinct to conserve energy by stopping and huddling with her herd through the storm. Loki shivered and regretted not grabbing his coat or even a blanket at their last stop. They did not dare pause now. He was paying for the time spent on the Aesir's comfort. The snowboar slowed again and Loki kicked her harder jerking on the reins of Thor’s reluctant animal as well. He was glad the pack boar was a barrow, the males would follow the females without resistance. He’d never be able to force the larger animal should it decide to stop. The gilts, however would trust their riders only so far and they were fast approaching that limit.

Thor’s calling his name caught him off guard and his reply was snappish. The man’s question was also unexpected. Loki hadn’t spent anytime considering Thor’s bearer, all his attention was on the man’s sire. Loki knew how he would feel if Sleipnir was in the hands of the Aesir. He’d attack their stronghold alone, if need be, to rescue his child. What kind of parent would allow their partner to leave the child born of their own body, to the mercies of his enemies? He knew little of Frigga, save she was a sorceress of the Vanir and had been taken as queen by Odin after her people’s acquiescence to Odin’s rule. She was Odin’s second wife, as his first had died giving life to Hela. He saw no reason to deny Thor’s request and was opening his mouth to reply, when his mount stopped with an abrupt snort and wheeled to the right. The Barrow gave a shrill squealing cry and Loki’s heart dropped when it was answered by a low thundering roar that might have been the voice of the storm itself.

“Hold on!” He yelled and hit their mounts with a blast of green fire to get them moving again. Adult snowboar could hold off any of their natural predators and their instinct was to face their attackers. But the thunderbeasts were a new threat and the tusks of the snowboar were no match for the size and power of the whale killers. They were closely matched in speed though, and if they had enough of a lead they might make it to safety. Except their mounts had been carrying them all day and were already showing signs of weariness. Loki bent over the gilt and cast ahead for the smoothest path as they raced through the thickening drifts.

******

Thor was waiting for Loki’s answer when his mount turned so swiftly he was almost thrown from its back. The low roar sent a wave of shock and then anger through his belly. He knew that sound. It was one of the Jötnar’s hunting beasts. Loki’s sharp cry was distorted by the wind and the screaming of the pack animal drowned most of it out, but Thor understood its intent as his snowboar jumped forward, driven by a crackling burst of magic. He grasped the saddle solely to keep from landing in the snow. If Loki meant to frighten him with the creature he was sadly mistaken. Thor had killed one of the damn things before and he wasn’t afraid of it now. He’d seen the Jötnar drive one off its prey with sticks. As ferocious as they looked, the beasts were not that dangerous. The trickster was playing another game, taking advantage of his blindness and Thor was not going to play along. He leaned back in the saddle and tugged on the snowboar’s thick fur and felt the creature slow its headlong rush.

“What are you doing? Do you mean to get us killed?’ Loki screamed at him hitting his beast with a second whip of power and causing it to surge forward.

Thor smirked and leaned back again. The Jötunn was good, he almost sounded sincere. 

“Don’t think to frighten me with the barking of your pet hounds. Lay off your game sorcerer.” 

The roar sounded again, closer and louder. Much louder than the voice of the creature he’d killed in battle.

“You idiot, that’s no tamed, half grown adolescent, that’s a wild adult. Get that gilt moving or I’m leaving you to be eaten.” 

The ground shook with the rumble of the creature’s approach, the barrow tore past squealing in terror and Thor awoke to the fact that the Jötunn wasn’t trying to scare him, but save his life. He set his heels into the side of his snowboar and cursed his own ignorance. He felt something sizzle over his head and heard an ear shattering bellow, followed by the stench of burnt flesh. The snowboar jigged sideways and Thor thought it was going to go down, but its flailing hooves found purchase and took off again. 

They were now running so closely together that Thor’s leg was crushed against Loki’s animal. He felt the snowboar’s muscles bunching under his thighs and caught bits of Loki’s quickly muttered words as he conjured magic. He could hear the crashing impact of the thunderbeast's claws tearing into the frozen earth and its gale like breath whistled in his ears. Thor crouched low over his mount to give the sorcerer a wider field of attack and kicked his beast harder. 

The sound of pursuit was abruptly cut off as if they’d entered another world. Even stranger, there was no sound at all. Thor could feel the animal laboring under him and the cold wind tearing at his clothing but their flight was enveloped in silence. It was an eerie feeling and he couldn’t stop his startled “What?!!” Although he felt his lips move and his breath expel, his voice made not a sound. Thor wondered if he’d been killed and if this was how death felt to the dying. But only his ears and eyes were not functioning. The snowboar ran unheeding in the unnatural quiet. Thor stayed bent over his saddle till the animals finally slowed their headlong gallop and resumed a panting walk. 

It was a good five minutes before sound came creeping in. Thor noticed there was no longer any wind and their mounts’ hoof beats were accompanied by a soft echoing. Along with the harsh snuffling breath of the tired snowboar, Thor heard the steady low cursing of the Jötunn sorcerer. He cursed Thor’s lack of brain and his arrogance and his stupidity. His ancestry in general and particular going back five named generations. Loki cursed his bones and his blood and his sinews and his face. He cursed Thor’s unborn children and his genitals that he never have children. He cursed Aesir society and Thor’s personal habits and his sexual proclivities, some of which Thor was quite certain he’d never attempted. The fact that his blood wasn’t boiling or his hair falling out or his dick shriveling up let Thor know the sorcerer was not putting any power into the words. 

Loki’s cursing was very inventive and somewhat entertaining. When he got around to cursing Thor’s pets, Thor could not help adding,

“Fubby Ears.”

“What??” Loki’s voice was sharp as a knife.

“Fubby Ears was the name of my rabbit when I was a boy.” Thor said. "I thought you should know so your swearing would be accurate."

“Do you think this was somehow humorous?” Loki’s voice was ragged. “We were almost killed. Our packboar is lost and most likely dead, we have no supplies to continue our journey and I am drained of every bit of my magic. Magic I might add, that is desperately needed to keep Torsborg secure. And you dare to make jokes about a stupid pet?” Loki's voice had pitched upwards as he ranted. “Fubby Ears! Fubby Ears! Why the hel would I care that your damned animal was called Fubby Ears?” He was panting in agitation and Thor worried that he was about to go over the edge.

“Fubby Ears.” Loki said softer and made a strangled sound. “Fubby Ears?”

That was accompanied by a snort. “That is the stupidest name I have ever heard.” 

“I was hardly more than a baby.” Thor explained. “Who knew the rabbit would live all the way into my late adolescence? Do you know how embarrassing it was to walk down the streets of Asgard calling “Fubby Ears, Fubby Ears, every time she escaped her pen?” 

Loki’s bark of laughter was harsh and bordering on the hysterical, but at least it was laughter. Thor couldn’t help joining in, more in relief at their escape, then the absurdity of the long dead rabbit’s name. When their mutual mirth had died to a few chuckles Thor said.

“I’m truly sorry Loki. I didn’t mean to cause this hardship. I had no idea that the beasts were not all domesticated.” Thor found that he actually meant the apology. 

Loki heaved a sigh. 

“It is not entirely your fault. The beast would have caught up with us anyway, just not, perhaps as soon. The roads grow more dangerous every year. With luck the pack boar got away and will find its way into the entrance. When we arrive I’ll see that a stable hand is sent to wait for it.”

“How did we escape? That monster was almost on us and then there was complete silence.”

“Thunderbeast track by scent, but attack by sight and sound. I created the illusion that we were going in a different direction and masked our true route. I wasn’t certain it would work. It wouldn’t have worked had we not been so close to the tunnel and the creature too dull to notice our path through the snow.”

“Why won’t it track us in here?”

“The entrance is warded. Nothing can enter without the proper spells.”

“Hence the need for a stable hand.” Thor said. “Otherwise the pack boar could follow us down the tunnel.”

“True.” said Loki. There was no need for Thor to know the animals carried a token on their harness that let them cross the barrier.

“But why a tunnel? Do Jötnar live in burrows?”

“You have seen the surface. Do you think we could farm or our graze animals there? How long would the streets stay clear and our homes unburied? Even before Odin condemned us to unending winter we had underground streets and shelters for use in times of heavy snowfall.”

“But how do you grow crops in the dark of a burrow?”

“We do not Aesir. You make assumptions. Let the morning bring you enlightenment. I see no reason explain all that will be apparent then.”

There had been an increasing warmth as they snaked their way underground and Thor shed his coat. Though at Loki’s command he wrapped the scarf around his face and kept his hands mittened. Loki told him it was best he be thought one of the warborn, rather than the son of their greatest enemy. It made sense and Thor leashed his pride and didn’t try to circumvent the command. 

There were scents and sounds as they approached what Thor could only think of as the burrows, though there was a feeling of space above his head. The earthen smell of the tunnel had been replaced by that of plants and a whiff of animal manure and the strange sharp smell of the Jotnar in numbers. It was quiet as they rode. They were hailed once and Thor heard the sound of a gate being drawn and the closed behind them after they passed through. The was a faint lowing of cattle in the distance and a closer snorting squealing sound that Thor recognized as snowboar settling for the night. Their path went upwards and the echoing of their mounts’ hoof beats closed in as the way narrowed. They stopped. Loki directed Thor to dismount and gave a soft warbling whistle. Thor heard footsteps, low words were exchanged, the animals were taken away and Thor followed Loki’s tug on his coat through a curtained doorway and into a room that smelled of cooked food and a dying musty fire. Their guide walked away and Loki said softly. 

“Do not speak. The Hostler here is my friend, but I do not want to have to argue him into accepting an Aesir into his place of business. It is better to ask forgiveness then permission. By morning his objections will be without merit as the deed will already be done.”

Thor thought it odd that a prince would not command an underling to do his bidding, but perhaps Loki was being cautious because of their friendship. Thor wondered what kind of friendship a prince could have with a commoner. 

“Loki! Dearest! How are you? It’s been ages since I’ve seen your pretty rump in Torsborg.” Said a deep bass voice.

“Ah” thought Thor. “That kind of friendship.”

“Skarpr, you flatterer, it is good to see your ugly face. Tell me you have room for an old friend.”

“If I didn’t I’d throw someone out to make room. Alas the custom is slow, you can take your pick.” The fellow’s voice was full of humor and Thor disliked him more by the minute. “But old friend am I now? I remember when you called me by better names.”

“And I remember when your bed was empty instead of being occupied by one of the most sought after Jötnar in all of Tolsborg. How is Dallr, and how is your father doing? 

They walked up a stone ramp and then passed through a curtain into a smaller space.

“Dallr is fine, sleeping like the useless lump that he is.” The Jötunn paused and the laughing tone was replaced with a more somber one. “Vigmathr, he died this year.”

“Skarpr, I am sad to hear of it. You should have sent me a message that I could attend his funeral. He was a great Jötunn. Did he go during the long dark?”

“No, he wanted to see the rockbreaker bloom once more. He held out till grey time. He passed the night after the first flowers opened.” 

There was a silence and even Thor felt a twinge of sadness for the death of the Jötunn’s father. 

“You were busy with your plan to regain the Casket of Winters and I knew he would not want you drawn away from that good endeavor. In a way I am glad he passed when he did. He had great hopes of our world reborn. Curse Odin.” 

There was the sound of spitting and Loki echoed both the words and the action. Thor tensed beside him but Loki squeezed his wrist.

“So who is your mystery guest? Don’t tell me you’ve got a secret lover.”

“Not as all.” Loki laughed. “This is Bari. He is both mute and has the light disease. He went out a few nights ago and stayed past dawn. I’m treating him for the burns and had to bring him along. Býleistr is involved with his parent and I believe he requested me as healer, so they can have some time alone.”

“Bari huh? Well named then aren’t you, to so risk your health?" Skarpr said to Thor. "But why visit Torsborg now, Loki?”

“The roof spells on Holtoft are near to failing and Helblindi is seeing that it won’t collapse. Laufey sent me to inspect the rest of the towns. Skarpr, I would love to spend the night trading news but we have been traveling all day. We were nearly caught by a thunderbeast and our pack boar is missing. Could you arrange for food and drink and a stable hand to wait for the barrow should it make it to the tunnel? If you can bring me oil of meadowtongue this evening I would be in your debt."

“A thunderbeast this close to the towns? We’ll have to have another hunt. They grow bolder and more numorous each year. Do you know that...”

“Skarpr!” Loki interrupted. “Food, drink, meadowtongue oil. Your tale can wait till morning.”

“Of course dear prince. Forgive me. I will bring refreshments immediately. I happen to know that Dallr has the oil, the vain creature uses it to prevent crowsfeet.”

The footsteps retreated and Loki led Thor to a bed and sat across from him on a second one, close enough their knees touched.

“Skarpr is an excellent innkeeper, a faithful friend and a wonderful storyteller. But he really does not know when to stop talking.”

Thor sat quietly and heard the sound of Loki kicking off his boots and the creak of rope as he stretched out on the bed. The innkeeper was true to his word and in a few minutes there was the smell of cooked meat and vegetables and the strange crumbly bread Thor had had before.

A final few pleasantries were exchanged and Skarpr left. Thor heard the heavy curtain pulled closed behind him. Doors apparently were not something the Jötnar used. Thor thought about it and realized that without trees there was no wood, thus no wooden doors.

“He was your lover.” Thor said once the muffled footsteps had retreated down the hall. It was more a statement than a question.

“Yes.” Loki answered busy with his meal. “Many years ago. He’s been with Dallr for ages. He likes to flirt, but he means nothing by it. He’d be shocked if I took him seriously.”

Thor found the spoon by feel. Established it was a bowl in front of him and took a bite of the stew. It was unusual but not bad. Meat that didn’t taste of fish and some kind of roots that weren’t the bitterroot he’d been served at every meal. The bread was decent and Thor took a hearty bite and washed it down with the strong tasting small beer. 

“Your friend is a lover of men then,” Thor said, “but you take your pleasure with men and woman both?”

Loki put down his spoon and made an exasperated sound. 

“As I have told you twice before. We are not Aesir. There is no man, no woman. There is only Jötnar.”

Thor winkled his brow, trying to understand. “I realize you allow your women extreme freedom, but how can you claim that you do not differentiate between the sexes at all? Surly you must have some laws or rules or occupations that are exclusive to each sex?”

Loki laughed, but it was rueful and not from humor.

“Are you actually this ignorant? Is it possible that Odin has kept you this much in the dark? Thor, we do not differ between the sexes because we do not have separate sexes. We are not split asunder like the Aesir or the beasts. We are complete. We are bearer and sire both. The words you use, man and woman have no meaning here. We are all only Jötnar.”

Thor’s metal spoon hit his bowl with a sound of cracking ceramic. He stared blindly toward Loki as the enormity of his words sank in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now Thor knows about Loki. Its a bit much to take in and he's going to have to reassess a lot of his preconceptions.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor can't sleep, and neither can Loki.

Thor was having a restless night. The bed was comfortable enough, a firm mattress over rope webbing, blankets of some soft light wool and pillows that felt like they were stuffed with down. Though the ointment Loki concocted for his damaged eyes had a strong odor that tickled his nostrils and made his eyes water, at least they no longer burned. Loki insisted he wear the hat with its sewn on blindfold to bed, and the felt soaked up the few tears, so that was no problem. The only physical impediment to sleep was that the hat’s tie under his chin caught at his beard. It was mildly annoying. 

He tugged at the strap to loosen it a little more. It wasn’t keeping him from his rest. Next to him the sorcerer’s breathing was slow and regular. The Jötunn. One of the Jötnar. Not like the Aesir. Not a man. Thor remembered the broad shoulders, the flat plains of the chest and the trim waist. Loki did have a slight flare to his hips, but nothing compared to Volstag's pear shaped form. Thor flashed on his blurred glimpse of Loki’s ass as he crawled naked out of the tent. If his vision had been clear would he have seen more than the shadow of male genitalia between Loki’s legs? 

Thor felt a hot flush run down his belly and straight to his groin. He turned over, facing away from the sleeping Jötunn. He didn’t need that, in his mind right now. It was bad enough that he’d thought of how it would feel to sink his cock into Loki’s butt, the idea that in addition to feeling that ring tugging tight around his shaft he could also enjoy the slick rippled coolness of his cunt. 

“Damn this torc!” Thor thought. There were more things to consider about the sorcerer’s information then how it would feel to fuck his lean hard body, or how nice it would be to see his throat bared, his chin lifted, those thin lips breathlessly parted and a lilac flush spread over his sharp features…

“Fuck!” Thor said aloud.

He grabbed his pillow and pummeled it with a viciousness it did not deserve, setting it back under his head only when a few soft feathers drifted from a newly split seam. Thor forced himself to think about something else. Loki had a child. This morning he had meant to ask how the Jötnar knew they were raising a child they had fathered, and Loki’s answer had puzzled him. But with this new information… Thor went back over what he had actually asked. He’d said not, “how do the Jötnar know?”, but “How do you know, the child is yours?” Loki had responded “The bearer knows the child they birth.” Had Loki actually given birth to his son? His words pointed toward that conclusion. If so what of the child’s father? Loki’s angry voice, rang in his ears. “The father is dead.” Not a saying then, but an answer to a very personal question. No wonder he’d cut off the questions.

Was the anger directed towards Thor? Was he responsible for the death of Loki’s partner? The father of his child? He remembered the twinge of sadness he’d felt when he’d heard of Skarpr’s father’s death. Thor felt a sick twisting in his belly. If he’d killed Loki’s partner it was no wonder the Jötunn treated him with such contempt. 

Thor’s restless mind took the distressing concept farther. How many other fathers had he killed in the rage of his wounded pride? Or mothers? A cold emptiness crept over Him. An image came to him of Frigga, lying dead by his berserker bloodied hand because of a stupid taunt. 

Thor lurched to his feet and stumbled blindly from the room and down the hall towards the toilet chamber. He didn’t make it before his last meal ended up on the stone floor. 

******

Loki was jarred out of his much needed sleep by Thor’s voice. He listened but other than the sounds of the Aesir wrestling with the bedclothes there was no further outcry. He closed his eyes and was just drifting off again when Thor sprang out of his bed with enough violence to send the bone bedframe scrapping across the floor. The Aesir blundered out of the room, almost tearing down the door curtain in his haste. Loki hoped he was simply going to the toilet, but the sounds of retching and splattering told him otherwise. He wondered if he could lay here and pretend to be asleep while Thor and Skarpr hashed out who would clean up the mess. Thor’s soft gasping cries reached his ears and then the sound of another retch.

“Fuck him.” Loki thought as he pulled back the covers and climbed out a bed. “I don’t have any energy to deal with that boy’s temper tantrums or his self-pity.” Loki pulled on a pair of pants and pushed aside the curtain. “If Skarpr finds out who he is and puts an ice sword through his belly so much the better.” He stalked down the hall where the big man leaned on the wall. “It would save me the trouble of doing so myself.”

He came to a stop beside a weeping Thor.

“What is your problem now?” Loki hissed through clenched teeth. “Stop that damned noise before you wake the entire inn.”

Thor took a deep shuddering breath and shook his head, apparently unable to put his emotional outburst into words. Loki really didn’t give a single fuck what the fool’s problem was, now that he’d ceased his blubbering. He grabbed Thor’s arm and escorted him the few steps to the toilet. A wet washcloth allowed Thor to wash his face. Loki shoved a couple of damp towels into his grasp, led him back to the mess.

“Clean this up, rinse out the towels and hang them up when you are done.” Loki said quietly.

“You would have me do the work of a charwoman?” Thor said in obvious disbelief.

“I would have you do the work of a responsible adult.” Loki snarled. “Since you can’t wrap your spoiled infantile brain around that concept then grasp this, thrall. I command that you wipe up your own damn vomit, clean the towels, come back to your bed and if you cannot fall asleep then lie without speaking. I swear to the Norns if you so much as cause me one more iota of trouble I will whip you until you cannot stand.”

Loki turned on his heel and strode back to the room. Club it would be then. He had no more patience to waste on the idiot. He’d break his will and his mind with the torc and send him back to Odin as an assassin and puppet king. Maybe he’d use him as a sex toy while he was at it. Thor's body was at least appealing, even if his personality was utter crap. 

Loki lay in bed seething with anger. He tried to calm his mind as he worked through the ritual meditation, relaxing each part of his body in turn and soothing the emotion snarled seidr. His concentration broke when Thor returned still sniveling. Loki attempted to ignore the sighing, the sniffling and the long shuddered almost soundless breaths. He’d almost completed the ritual a second time when Thor gave a low whimpering sound of suppressed sorrow that snapped him back to wakefulness.

Loki sat up in bed more weary than angry. He would have to deal with this now or neither of them would get any sleep at all. There were only a few hours until morning. He got up went to the Aesir and sat beside him on his bed. He tapped Thor on the shoulder.

“The healing balm should have finished its work. I release you from the command of silence. It does not seem to working anyway.” Loki said, undoing the ties on the hat, after Thor tuned over and sat up. “Let me see your eyes.” He couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice. 

Thor removed the hat and blindfold and Loki conjured the smallest of witch lights to check the Aesir’s eyes. He looked carefully at the man, no boy, Loki corrected. It didn’t matter that he knew Thor was a handful of years older than himself. Right now, his eyes swollen from crying and his face soft and damp with tears he reminded Loki of Sleipnir. A Sleipnir heartbroken and inconsolable after the runt piglet he’d adopted and tried to raise as a pet died. Loki could no more stop his hand from smoothing back Thor’s tear wet hair from his cheek then he could have stopped from doing the same for his own son. Thor looked at him with eyes that held such depth of sorrow that Loki covered his reaction to it by wiping away the residue of the ointment with his thumb. That it wiped away the tears as well….

“How do they feel? Does the light burn them? Is your vision blurred at all?” Loki asked.

“They,” Thor took another uneven breath, “My eyes do not hurt. I can see clearly.”

“That is good.” Loki glanced away from Thor. He really didn’t know how to approach whatever Thor was upset about. 

“How many did I kill?”

Loki turned back to him. He had not expected that question. Was this some kind of honor thing among the Aesir? Was he weeping because he’d not killed enough Jötnar to appease Odin?

“How many? How many mothers did I kill?” Thor’s voice was rough from crying but for once, not demanding.

“Ah.” thought Loki, “he is ashamed thinking he killed females. The Aesir idea of the weaker sex.”

“The soldiers knew they might pay with their lives.” Loki said. “Your battle prowess was no secret.” 

“That is not what I asked. How many children are now without their mothers?”

“I do not know. It is my brother Býleistr who oversees notifying the families.”

“Then you have no knowledge which of those I killed, left young children behind?” Thor persisted.

Loki laughed and it was a bitter jagged sound. He patted Thor’s cheek.

“You innocent, you foolish boy. Is there no end to your ignorance?”

“I am not ignorant!” Thor protested, twisting away from Loki’s hand with a scowl.

Loki grabbed Thor’s beard and jerked his face back until they were eye to eye. “There are no young children. No babies, no little children, no adolescents. The only child who has survived its birth in a thousand years is my son. Now do you understand what you father has condemned us to?”

******

Thor stared aghast into Loki’s eyes. Eyes that in this dim light shone not red but a tear blurred green. The hand clutching his beard trembled. For once he didn’t doubt the Jötunn’s words. The rawness of Loki’s emotions were too telling. It seemed foolish and cruel to bleat again that he did not know, as though it excused his actions. Instead Thor found his hand settled on the back of Loki’s neck and he pressed his forehead to the cool skin of the Jötunn’s.

“I will right this, Loki. I swear on my honor, I will right this wrong.” 

It seemed natural when Loki’s hand went to the back of his neck and returned the clasp. Natural to pull the smaller Jötunn into his arms and hold him while shudders racked his body. Natural to lay back down in the darkness as the mage’s witch light died and feel the sorcerer pressed against his side, his head resting on Thor’s broad chest, and Thor’s arm around his shoulders. 

There were no more words and no more actions. Thor felt Loki’s shaking slowly stop. The Jötunn made no move to return to his own bed. Thor for his part relaxed but didn’t release his embrace. Exhaustion stole over him. There was too much for him to think of, too many lies to sort out from the truth. In the morning he promised himself. Everything would be clearer in the morning.

******  
Loki was emotionally worn and on the edge of hysteria from lack of sleep, seidr exhaustion and unprocessed guilt over the failure of his plan. Thor’s vast lack of knowledge had pushed him over that edge. Tears wet his eyes and didn’t know if he was going to dissolve into laughter or tears. He startled when Thor's hand grasped his neck, but the gesture was one of comradery other than threat and the press of the Aesir’s forehead to his own oddly comforting. But it was Thor’s words that sent a thrill deep into his soul.

Loki tentatively returned the grasp. He allowed Thor to draw him close and rub his back as though soothing Loki’s pain. It wasn’t pain, but elation he felt. He was shuddering from suppressed laughter. When Thor lay down, tucked Loki beside him and curled with one powerful arm around his shoulders, Loki was glad the darkness hid his triumphant grin. He had him now. The Aesir ex-prince would never wholly trust Odin again. In the days to come he would make Thor completely his. Loki relaxed in contentment and snuggled closer to the big man. He loved it when his plans came together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well another bit of sweet, sweet, misunderstanding. And cuddling. Aww.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's eyes are opened and he faces some ugly truths. Loki goes for a walk and gets unwelcome news.

What awoke Thor was the noise, and for a few confused moments he thought himself back on Asgard. He heard a low pitched grunting, the clop of hooves and the rumble of wheels from right outside the open window. A steady far off ringing, banging sound he recognized as a smith at work. There were voices indistinct and murmuring, because of their number, one occasionally breaking through the overall sound, the low mooing of cattle and a strange squawking noise he couldn’t place. It was in fact the clamor of a town awake and at the business of daily life. He was surprised to hear it, here on Jötunheim. The Jötnar he’d fought had been for the most part, taciturn. Even Loki was sparing of words. The outside world, one of emptiness and blowing wind, with nary an animal call to break the quiet. Thor had had an image of a grim mute people going about their lives in a bleak silence. 

His second impression when he opened his gummy eyes was one of light and color. Here too he was surprised. A woven hanging blazed on the wall in red, pink, yellow, and orange like a sunset at midday. Its geometric designs shifted from foreground to background as he gazed at it. He’d expected the room to be dark, lit only by flickering candles or the Jötnar equivalent, but a soft blue light came through the window. Thor sat up and glanced around the room. The blankets, the pillows, the large stuffed cushions which he supposed served as chairs where all brightly colored and decorated with various designs. Even the utilitarian door curtain had a motif of two rearing deer in blue and red against rich golden brown. Thor realized he’d been judging the Jötnar from his limited experience of them on a battle field. It made sense that their clothing and armor and tents blended into the dreary landscape. He’d written off Loki’s ornamentation as that of a prince, and one of a more frivolous turn. But looking around the room he had to rethink his opinion. Loki’s clothing was subdued in comparison to this riotous color scheme. 

Which brought his mind to the sorcerer. Where was he? How was Thor to get around and still maintain his disguise? What was his excuse be bundled up in this mild temperature? Thor had a pressing need to attend to and he was loathe to venture down the hallway on his own, lest he encounter one of the Jötnar. The thought of the giants made Thor reassess his surroundings. The room was sized for someone of Aesir proportions. Were there more Jötnar of Loki’s size? Or did their host, despite his offer for Loki to take his pick of rooms, keep this one especially for the prince? 

Thor got out of bed and decided to chance the trip down the hall. To his relief it was empty as was the toilet. It was when he turned to wash up that he got a shock. A small Jötunn was staring at him, pale of visage with stingy blonde hair with angry looking half healed burns across his face. Thor raised his fists in defense only to have the Jötunn do the same. Thor blinked as the truth sunk in. He stepped to the sink and touched the mirror as his distorted reflection did the same. Blue-white skin, raised kin markings and reddish purple burn scars greeted his examination. Thor touched his own face as his reflection did the same. His skin felt smooth with no ridges or burns. Looking closer Thor could see how his own features were incorporated into the disguise. He was impressed with Loki’s magic, but at the same time nauseated to see himself portrayed as one of the monsters. Jötnar he corrected. It did nothing to make him feel any better. If he had to be a Jötunn, why must he be such an ugly one?

“Bari!” Thor heard Loki calling. He remembered that was how Loki had named him the night before.

“In here.” He answered and quickly washed his hands. The facilities were also sized to fit him and he’d passed two other rooms on the way here. So there must be more of the smaller sized Jötnar then he’d first believed.

Thor stepped out into the hall and froze in shock.

“Mute, ey?” Said Skarpr with a chuckle. “No, I don’t want an explanation, Loki.” He said holding up his disproportionately short arms. “I don’t wish to tax you with creating an elaborate story before you’ve eaten your breakfast.”

He walked stiff legged toward Thor and extended a huge hand. “Good to finally meet you Bari, or whoever you are.” He grinned and winked.

Thor masked his confusion and revulsion, with years of courtly training. He looked the giant in the eye, took the huge hand in his and returned the quick firm grasp. His hand was held for a beat too long. 

“Bari will do.” Thor said. “And may I express my condolences on your father’s passing.”

Skarpr nodded his large head and let go of Thor’s hand with a final lingering squeeze. “I thank you.” He turned to Loki. “I’ll leave you to your no doubt intriguing business, I’ve other guests to attend this morning.” He turned and stumped away. Thor heard his thumping steps as he descended the ramp.

When they stepped inside their room Thor no longer bothered to hide his distaste. “Are there more like him?

“I rather doubt it, Skarpr is one of a kind.” Loki said with a soft laugh, kneeling by the cushions as he divided the food into two portions. He looked up and saw the expression on Thor’s face. “Do you find it so repulsive to have a Jötunn flirt with you?” 

“No, yes, I… How could you take him as your lover? Deformed as he is?” Thor shuddered. “On Asgard such an abomination would not have been allowed to be born.”

Loki’s face went coldly blank. 

“Do you forget that I too am, as you so gently put it, an abomination?” His eyes were narrowed to slits and his teeth were bared in a shark’s smile. “No doubt it would have been a mercy to rip me from the womb also. Such is the vaulted compassion of mighty Asgard.”

Loki rose to his feet.

“I tell you this Odinson,” Loki spat the name like a curse. “I would rather have Skarpr, with his twisted back and shortened limbs in my bed then you, with all your despicable arrogant prejudice. You chose your ‘deformity’, and it is of the mind. You sicken me.”

Thor stared at Loki’s retreating back as the sorcerer swept from the room. Odin’s remembered words rang in his ears, “Misbegotten creatures laid out to freeze to death on the altar, the priests ignoring their cries and ringed around the temple. I would have given them a final mercy.” 

But the Jötnar infants wouldn’t freeze, Thor knew that now, they were made for cold. They had not been left to die a lingering terrible death. Skarpr and Loki were proof of that. Thor realized the priests hadn’t been ignoring the children, they were defending them from the invading Aesir. Those his father thought of as “misbegotten creatures” had been raised to adulthood. Not only allowed to live, but living in the open, working and holding jobs and even taking lovers. 

He considered Skarpr’s jovial flirting, his easy familiarity with the prince and his air of authority in his own inn. His joking disparaging comments about his partner, whom Loki had described as one of the most sought after Jötnar in the town. Skarpr would never be a warrior, never compete in feats of the body. Yet according to Loki he was an excellent innkeeper, a faithful friend and a wonderful storyteller. Were such things not enough? 

Thor thought of those Aesir who had been hurt too badly for the healers to mend back to wholeness. The way they bore their injuries as though they were at fault. Even those wounded in battle tried to minimize their wounds, using prosthetics that mimicked their lost limbs or keeping to themselves if the damage was so obvious that it could not be hidden. Comrades in arms who retreated to the confines of home and family sooner than bear the pitying regard of their fellow soldiers. Only Odin carried the scar of his lost eye like a battle banner.

Thor had thought it a kindness to let them withdraw from their former life, for who would want to be reminded of what they had lost? But was it instead a cruelty? Was the custom not for the comfort of the disabled, but for that of the able bodied? 

Thor felt his life was being peeled away like the skin of an onion. Was everything he assumed as an unchanging truth, founded instead on lies? If so what did that make him? He put his head in his hands, overwhelmed by difficult knowledge. He wanted Frigga’s comforting hand as he had not since he was a small boy.

******

Loki stalked down the streets of Torsborg, his fists clenched in rage. Every time he thought there was something worth salvaging in that fool, that idiot, that unthinking oaf of an Aesir, Thor had to prove him wrong with yet another proof of Asgard’s vicious barbarity. He’d kill the ex-prince, beat him unconscious, drop him into the frozen ocean to revive him and beat him unconscious again. No, he’d spend hours peeling the ridiculous pink skin from his over muscled flesh, just to hear him beg and scream and shit himself in agony. Or break his bones, all of them, one at a time. Starting with his fingers. Smash those broad powerful hands into useless bags of flesh. Loki stopped, his chest heaving and leaned on the low stone wall that bordered the road. That last image disgusted him. 

The Aesir brought out the worst in Loki. All of his carefully leashed anger and buried resentment, was set loose because of Thor’s thoughtless, narrow-minded, hateful words. Thor was a living reminder of the vilest of Jötunn behavior that Loki had had to endure. That assumption of superiority, the privileged view of the normal, their tactless condescension which he’d felt growing up. No, not all of the Jötnar were like that, but some were. Enough that it had made him question his own worth and the love of his family.

It wasn’t until Loki mastered his seidr and could prove just how dangerous it was to dismiss the third born prince, that such behavior had disappeared from his daily life. Those who didn’t respect him had learned to fear him.

He knew that not all the warborn were so lucky. Some experienced such patronizing from their own parents and siblings. Others had to deal with the physical impediments placed by those who never considered the warborn’s limits. It was one reason that Helblindi went to Holtoft, instead of Loki. Holtoft was the oldest of the underground cities, expanded from an ancient winter retreat. Its levels were accessed by steps instead of the ramps in the newer cities. Those who lived there claimed that the steeply layered city would have to be demolished and rebuilt to accommodate ramps. While that was partly true, Loki knew it could be done if the residents would be willing to make concessions. They weren’t, and Loki avoided the place rather than having to clamber up thigh high steps to get everywhere.

Loki stood quietly and let the sounds of the town wash over him. None of this had anything to do with why he was here. He had a job to do and the sooner he assessed the protective spells the quicker he could formulate a way to repair them. If they needed repair. He started on his way winding upward toward the great ice roof. He hoped the enchantment didn’t need replacing. He’d need help for that even at his full strength. The Aesir had consumed enough of his seidr that he required a full day of rest before he could do more than analyze any problems. 

Loki wished he could tap directly into Thor’s power. The torc used it, but only in minor amounts. His illusion had proven that he could link his own spells to the torc, but they had to be compatible with its original intent. He could not bypass that limit without destroying the torc. It frustrated Loki to be able to see Thor’s magic, a huge seething pool of energy at the man’s core, without being able to directly access it. With that kind of power at his fingertips he would be unstoppable. If only the Aesir wasn’t designed by the Norns to drive him into a state of almost constant anger. It didn’t help that he was attracted to the creature. 

Loki had, over time, become attracted to the unusual. He was never sure if it was because, as one of the warborn he identified with those like himself and was attracted to their bodies because they housed the ones he loved. Or if it was the other way around and he fell in love with those whose bodies were different from the normal Jötunn, because he was also different. Or maybe because he could see the physical effects his lovers endured and trusted them to not have the moral defect that Svaðilfari had.

By all rights he should have found Thor repulsive. He was annoying, quick to anger, arrogant, and full of lies and prejudice. He was over muscled for a Jötunn and had strange smooth skin without even a hint of kin lines. Said skin was a bizarre pinkish brown and covered with gold fur almost like an animal. Loki knew he even lacked a cunt. There was probably just a blank patch of skin behind his balls. He considered for a moment if it was a hairy as the rest of Thor. Jötnar only had hair on their heads, and not all of them had that much. But he had seen the thicker, darker thatch surrounding Thor’s cock and was intrigued. Still, if he were to fuck him he’d have to use the Aesir’s asshole. Not that he hadn’t done such a thing before. He wondered if the skin there was the same dark rose of his lips. Too bad he hadn’t thought of having Thor bend over for him and pull those plump ass cheeks apart when he’d had him naked. 

Loki swore under his breath, glad he was wearing a longer tunic this morning. It would not do to have the youngest prince walking the streets of Torsborg with an obvious erection. Two customers at a street vendors glanced over at him curiously then looked away when he scowled. He really needed to just fuck the Aesir and get it out of his system. It wasn’t the first time he’d had one of these lustful attractions and the reality never matched the fantasy. He’d take care of it tonight. He could see the man clearly returned the desire. Hopefully it would clear the air between them.

His mind made up, Loki shelved all thought of Thor with a cold finality. He was approaching the access point to the ice roof and even from this far away he could see signs of melting. Thin dark lines traced their way down the stone supports to drip in shallow pools on the vast catwalk. To most it would look like condensation. But it was too widely spread and too even in distribution. The protection spells were failing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this story has now crossed over into some difficult territory. I hope that I'm dealing with these themes of birth defects and living with handicaps in a fair and sensitive manner, that still hold true to the story. If not please be forgiving. I mean no insult.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki attempts some much needed maintenance. Thor goes for a walk and gets a new view of Jötunheim.

The catwalk was slippery with algae and Loki walked carefully along the narrow path as he inspected the interface between the permafrost and the ice roof. That there was algae growing on the stone was worrying in itself. It should have been too cold here for the stuff to live. The spell that shunted the rising heat down to the cavern floor was barely working. The roof itself was starting to cloud with condensation freezing on the clear ice. Loki was worried that the damage had gone deeper, etching the surface from the underside. There were traces of snow over the surface as well and drifts starting to build along the edges, blocking the vents. Thankfully not all of them were blocked, but it had to be addressed. The town depended on both the light concentrating ability of the lens like roof to grow their crops and the food for their livestock and the insulation from the bitter cold. Even the Jötnar couldn’t survive a constant arctic winter.

Moving the entire town was not a possibility. The other settlements were likely in the same situation. The ability to create these shelters depended on their mages. Sorcerers whose numbers were lower after every long dark. Whose power lessened as their world died. Loki looked down at the buildings and plots and pasture. Watched the people going about their business, unaware that their time was measured not in decades, or years but in months. He couldn’t allow the spells to fail. Calling up the small amount of seidr he still had at hand, he banished the snow from the first blocked vent. Once the storm ended they could be manually cleared, to prolong the working life of the spell. Drawing Heimdall’s attention to the underground towns was less of a worry then losing them altogether. 

The inrush of cold air spilled over Loki, flash freezing the seeping water underfoot. He shivered in the icy wind. He’d not thought to grab a coat in his hurry to leave Thor’s company, he hadn’t expected to need it inside. No matter, he could stand the chill for the time it took to get the vents open. He moved down the path and worked on another blocked vent and again removed the drifting snow, reinforcing the spell that kept the snow from sticking. As long as the storm raged outside, no one would be able to traverse the topside pathways. Trying to clear the blowing snow without some measure of spell work to prevent the drifts from reforming would be futile. 

Loki was only halfway around the perimeter when his seidr started to fail. It was taking more power than he had estimated, but he knew he couldn’t stop just yet. Causing an imbalance would be as disastrous as doing nothing. Loki began to thread his own life force into his magic. It was dangerous, but he wasn’t going to do it for long, just long enough to get the remaining clogged vents opened. 

He trudged on. Surely there couldn’t be that many more? Loki realized he had lost count. He raised his head and looked around, how long had he been walking, head down against the building gale? Normally it would take little more than an hour to complete the circle. But he’d had to stop every few yards and reinforce the spells. He sighed in relief. He was almost back at his starting point, there were only two or three vents left.

The swirling wind caught him just as his foot slipped on a patch of algae slick ice and he went down hard on one knee. That wasn’t right. The breeze shouldn’t be so strong. Loki rubbed his temples trying to clear his mind. Had he miscalculated? By working around the edge instead of going back and forth had he trapped some of the force of the storm inside the domed roof? It wasn’t supposed to work that way. He needed to equalize the pressure before the wind started to erode the permafrost. He narrowed his eyes trying to focus where the ice was sunk into the frozen soil. Why was it so hard to see? He wiped tears from his eyes and looked again. There was a blurriness to the merging edges. It must be the soil already lifting into the air. He had to hurry, had to stop the destruction. His heart beating rapidly Loki staggered to his feet. Shoved back and forth by the errant gusts he struggled toward the last few vents. 

******

Thor calmed his mind. Regardless of what his father had told him, and how wrong his preconceptions of the Jötnar were, he was still in the hands of his enemy. It didn’t matter that he now felt sympathetic to their plight. They would not be forgiving simply because he’d changed his views. He tested the bonds the torc laid on him. Loki had rescinded most of them, though the command to not harm either the Jötnar or himself was intact, as was the order to make no escape attempt. The one to obey Loki had been modified to only obey when he said the word ‘command’. He had to admit the commands had not been onerous, except for the annoyance of the sorcerer’s attraction to Thor forcing Thor to feel a similar desire.

That didn’t feel right, Loki had openly given all the other orders. It was true that the original 'no harm' instruction had tried to weasel its way into his mind and make him weigh his very words, lest they cause harm to the Jötnar. But Loki’s command to speak freely had erased that particular effect. So why would the torc influence him so? Thor decided to lay that line of introspection aside. 

He wanted to see the town and learn as much as he could about the Jötnar. So far he’d been taking Loki’s word about everything. It was time to test that information. Loki had not told him to stay inside and with the illusion spell covering him he could pass for an undersized Jötunn. Thor decide to not rely entirely on Loki’s spell and used the hat and scarf to hide most of his face and hair. His attire wasn’t too unusual as Skarpr and his customers gave him only a cursory glance as he left the inn.

Once outside, Thor stood and gaped in astonishment. The colorful decor in their room had not prepared him for the town. The stone buildings that clustered on the narrow road where not only painted, they were accented with intricate carving. Animals, plants and geometric designs framed every door and window. The walls were painted soft blues and pale yellows and warm salmon pink. The roofs were especially ornate and it took him a moment to understand they, like the doors were woven of heavy wool. There was no need for protection from the weather inside the cavern and roofs and doors were only for privacy. Thor looked up for the source of the light and was astounded to see what at first glance looked like a pale blue sky. It was only on further examination that he understood it was a translucent roof over a mile across. He could just make out the shapes of lowering clouds beyond. It was a wonder he had never thought to see on Jötunheim. As was the town itself. Thor let his eyes roam over the settlement. It was more a bowl then a cavern, with the bottom covered in green pasture and fields and the houses climbing the sides like oversized children’s blocks. He could see there were roads between the buildings leading away into the dark, where there were shadows of even larger structures. 

Thor had to press himself against the inn’s wall as a cart drawn by a horse sized deer pulled up and stopped. Its huge driver stepped down, lifted an earthenware jug half as tall as Thor from the cart and carried it inside. Curious Thor glanced at the contents of the open cart and saw the familiar rounds of cheese and small boxes of butter stacked between the jugs. The deer snorted at him and shook its head, bells ringing on its harness. It made an odd bleating sound. Thor stepped back, not knowing how complete Loki’s spell was. Would it fool the deer or was it reacting to his scent? He could hear the tradesman arguing with the innkeeper about the cost of the milk beer? Milk wine? Thor did not know how one made alcohol out of milk and was not sure he wanted to know. He squeezed past the cart and its doubtful draft animal and followed the road as it circled around the upper level of the town. He passed a vendor displaying hanks of brightly dyed yarn and another with an assortment of leather harness and saddles. Interspersed with the shops there were homes. Some had pots with flowers growing from them flanking their doors. It seemed a frivolous thing for people who, according to Loki, were on the edge of starvation each winter. Then again they could be for healing or seasoning. Or maybe, Thor thought, people in desperation where the ones who needed little luxuries the most. He remembered how soothing he found his mother’s garden. These people were not so very different from the Aesir so perhaps the flowers were grown solely for the pleasure of their scent and form.

Thor wandered all the way around the upper perimeter of the town, pausing to look at the various offerings. Most of the Jötnar towered over him, but there were a few that were around his height. None of them were unmarked. One was as Skarpr, with a giant sized body and head and shorted stiff limbs, another was thin and with stick like legs and moved by means of a silently gliding wheeled chair. Yet another was well formed like Loki, but with a blank, open face that told of a stunted intellect. This child, for Thor could not think of him as anything but a child, was walking with a taller Jötunn who held his hand, guiding him through the streets. He burbled when he saw Thor and waved his free arm. 

“Me! me! me!” He said tugging the other Jötunn toward Thor. The giant turned, saw Thor and let himself be dragged over.

“Yes Unn, he is like you.” The Jötunn said. To Thor he said “He gets so excited when he sees someone of his own size.”

Thor looked at the wide smile that crossed the smaller bouncing Jötunn’s face, the excitedly waving hand and the soft fondness in the other’s eyes. Thor felt his throat tighten.

“Hello Unn. I am Th…Bari. I am glad to meet you.” He extended his hand. 

Unn took his hand and pulled Thor into a hug. Thor was startled enough that he didn’t immediately try to push him away. It was the older Jötunn who pulled Unn off of Thor. 

“Unn, No!”

He gave Thor a shrug. Thor straightened his clothing. “No matter.” Thor said. “I take no offense.”

The Jötunn shot Thor a puzzled look. “I hope you were not injured.”

“No. I am unharmed.” Thor was puzzled in turn, why would a simple, if unwanted hug, hurt him?

“That is good.” The giant nodded and led his charge away. 

It wasn’t until they were around a bend in the road that he remembered the illusionary burns that covered his hands and face. It was too late now to do anything about it. Thor decided to avoid interacting with anymore of the warborn. He was almost back to his starting point when he came across an ancient Jötunn who was working yarn into an intricate patterned cloth, the large fingers deft and sure. He sat in front of a large home whose door curtain was tied to one side. He turned his face toward Thor and Thor was startled to see empty eye sockets. 

“Good morning.” The elder called.

“Good morning to you, grandmother.” Thor said using the Aesir honorific. 

“Hah!” the Jotun laughed in a deep bass voice. “I think I should know the children of my children and you are none of them, southerner.”

“I meant no disrespect.”

“None taken, child.” The Giant reached into a basket at his feet, felt around for a moment and pulled out a strand of violet thread. “This will make a nice edging will it not?”

Thor looked at the weaving of red and green. He thought the purple yarn would look hideous. 

“Not unless you’re blind.” He said without thinking. He instantly regretted his words.

The Jötunn burst into another round of hooting laughter. “Even I am not so blind as that. At least you’re an honest one.” 

Thor smiled. The old giant had a sense of humor and had been testing him.

The purple yarn was dropped and a warm yellow was picked up. The Jotun began working it into the edge. “So what brings you to our beautiful town, southerner?”

“I’m accompanying Prince Loki. He’s treating my light disease.” Thor decided it was best to along with Loki’s story.

“Ah. He passed here over an hour ago, said he was going to check the roof. I told him I could hear the dripping night and day. He seemed rather concerned.” 

Thor glanced up a smaller path that climbed steeply to the vast ceiling. There was no one on it, nor could he see anyone on the walkway that surrounded the roof.

“Are you certain he has not returned? I see no one there.”

“I’m blind, child, not deaf. If he returned by the path I would have heard. Those boots of his creak. Perhaps he flew down.” 

Thor frowned at the joke and scanned the perimeter again. There was something on the edge that fluttered in a wind he could not feel. Thor walked up the pathway to get a better look. It was a sleeve, and at the end was a pale blue hand. Thor's heart pounded and his breath burned in his throat as he rushed upward. It was Loki, lying face down on the catwalk, his raven hair tangling in an icy breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Will our lusty hero be in time? Has this unrequited love story come to a tragic end? Stay tuned for more melodrama.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to heat up, just a little.

Thor braced himself on the railing as he climbed the last few steps to the roof. There was a strong arctic breeze blowing just under the roof, and the ramp was icy despite the grooves cut into the stone. Thor shivered in the subzero blast. His hands burned as he gripped the baluster and crept out onto the catwalk. Here the ice was thicker and slick with a layer of dead and dying algae. Loki was several yards from the ramp, a small pool of wine-red blood under his temple. A winding trail of frozen splattered drops led to a smear of blood on the railing a hundred feet back. Thor knelt beside the sorcerer and felt for a pulse, but his fingers were already numbing in the extreme cold. Thor knew if he waited much longer and he would not be able to grasp the Jötunn. Calling for help was futile against the roar of the wind. He thrust his hands under the inert figure and lifted Loki to his shoulder, leaving a handful of black hair frozen in the spilled blood. 

It took considerable strength and skill to battle the gale now blowing in his face and he struggled to keep his feet with the weight of the sorcerer skewing his balance. His hands were think clumsy clubs and his feet felt like dead stumps as he fought his way to the ramp. He slide his palm down the ice roughened railing leaving behind fragments of skin and a trail of blood holding on to stay upright. He almost fell at the ramp but caught himself. A few step further and he was out of the freezing blast, the air warming quickly as he descended. The tingling pain as his hands and feet came back to life was welcome, he’d suffered no permanent damage.

Thor was breathing easier and he shifted Loki’s limp body to a more comfortable position over his shoulder. Only now did he stop to ponder why he’d rushed to rescue the Jötunn. He hadn’t even paused to think, he’d acted as if on instinct. He couldn’t blame the torc. Thor was familiar with how it worked and he hadn’t felt its compulsion driving him. It would have been more sensible to leave his captor where he was and let him freeze to death. Thor might have been freed from the torc with his death, if Loki wasn’t dead already. If he was, how would it look for Thor to be carrying his body? Thor the son of Odin with the dead prince. Who would believe his story of attempted rescue? Thor stopped, he was halfway down the small path, hidden from the town by the way it curved around behind the buildings. He laid carefully laid Loki down and crouched over him, looking for signs of life.

Loki’s skin was cold, his eyes closed, his thin lips parted. There was a split in the skin over his temple that was oozing blood. Thor pressed his fingers into the cerulean skin of his throat, feeling for a pulse. He was rewarded with a fluttering as soft as a butterfly’s wings. He raised the back of his hand to Loki’s lips and felt the warmth of expelled breath. Thor breathed a sigh of relief. The delicate eyelids blinked open, crimson eyes met his. Thor smiled, opened his mouth to speak and gasped as pain exploded in his side.  
He jerked upright. A shard of ice was sticking through his tunic, blood staining the cloth. As bad as it stung he could see it had only pierced his skin.

“Damn you! I just saved your life!” Thor swore as Loki struggled to scuttle away on arms and legs that were barely under his control.

Loki stopped moving and lay propped up on his elbows, panting, his eyes round and wild with fear. 

Thor pulled the melting shard from his side and glared at the disoriented sorcerer.

“I should have known better than to expect gratitude, but a murder attempt seems extreme, even for you.”

“Thor?” Loki voice was wavering and uncertain.

Thor pulled the scarf away from his face. 

“Of course it’s me. Who else would it be?” He held his hand to his side. The bleeding was slowing, the water from the ice knife had caused the blood to spread wider than such a superficial wound merited. 

“Anyone but you.” Loki said in a scathing tone, pushing himself upright. He raised one hand to his head, pulled it back and looked at the blood on his fingers as if he didn’t know what it was.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Thor growled. He was getting irritated at Loki’s attitude. He had just pulled the Jötunn from imminent death at the risk of serious harm, if not his own life. 

“I mean that I won’t… I won’t fall into…” Loki looked at Thor, frowned and his eyes rolled back. Thor lunged forward and caught him right before his head hit the stone pathway.

“Damn.” 

He should just leave the bastard there for someone else to find. If he died in the meantime it was all the better for Thor. He could sneak out of town and call for Hiemdall. Without a Jötnar army surrounding him, it would be safe to open the Bifrost. A short trip through the snow and he could be home in a few hours. He looked down at the sorcerer, his breathing uneven and shallow with dark bruised shadows under his eyes. He was as beautiful and frail as a dying bird. Thor cursed a third time, got to his feet and cradled the unconscious prince in his arms. At least holding him like this he could keep an eye on Loki’s hands and prevent any further attempts at stabbing.

He walked back down the path and onto the road. The blind giant had left his porch and gone inside his home. Thor carried the sorcerer the short distance to the inn, without encountering anyone else. He pushed through the curtained doorway and bellowed for Skarpr. The innkeeper arrived at a shuffling trot, admonishing Thor for the noise until he saw Loki draped limp in his arms. Then he was all business. Thor was directed to bring Loki to Skarpr’s rooms, as they were closer. Skarpr shooed a full sized Jötunn from them and sent him to fetch a healer. Thor laid Loki on an oversized bed and took the wet cloth their host brought, and wiped the blood from Loki’s face.

Skarpr looked meaningfully at Thor’s wound, pressed his lips together and visibly refrained from commenting. Thor ignored his unspoken questions and focused on checking Loki for more injuries. He’d found nothing besides the head wound by the time the elderly healer arrived. They were both ushered outside the room, where they waited with the burly Jotun Skarpr introduced as Dallr. After a while the old Jötunn came out where they waited. He questioned Thor on the circumstances of Loki’s injuries. Skarpr listened with unabashed curiosity and mounting skepticism. He mentioned Thor’s wound with an air of pointing out an obvious lie. Thor shot him a look of pure hatred and explained that Loki had lashed out in confusion. Thor refused help for the wound, pointing out it had already stopped bleeding. He was unsure how deep Loki’s illusion went. The healer didn’t press him and returned to the bedroom to tend his patient, after warning them that his patient needed quiet.

The innkeeper lead them back out to the deserted common area and Dallr, excused himself after giving Skarpr a look that was indecipherable to Thor. 

“If you think I believe that load that load of reindeer droppings you are dead wrong.” Skarpr hissed at Thor, after Dallr’s footsteps faded in the distance. “You think I didn’t know you two were fighting this morning? Loki would have never ventured to the roof without his coat had he not been upset.”

“I spoke the truth.” Thor said turning away. “I don’t see what concern it is of yours, innkeeper.”

“He is my friend and I won’t see him mistreated again, by one absorbed with his own selfish desires.” Skarpr said grabbing Thor by the shoulder.

Thor turned and his eyes burned with a rage that caused Skarpr to release his grip and take a step back. He glanced down at Thor’s hands and stepped farther back.

“What are you?” He said his eyes wide.

Thor raised his hands and stared at the blue-white sparks that crawled over his skin. He took a deep breath and wrested his anger back under control. 

“One not to be trifled with.” Thor answered and turned on his heel, retreating to his room with swift strides. He could feel Skarpr’s eyes on him until he was out of view, but the Jötunn said not another word.

******

Loki awoke in partial darkness, his heart pounding, he had to… to... urgency tore at his mind… urgency without meaning…

“Easy my prince,” said an ancient cracked voice that Loki didn’t know, “It is not well that you disturb yourself so.”

He pushed himself upright. “Who are you? Where am I?” 

But even as he asked the question he knew where he was. He recognized a portrait of a younger Dallr and Skarpr framed on the wall over the flickering light of one small lamp. But why was he in Skarpr’s bed and why did his head ache so and why… instinctively he reached for his seidr and keened in agony as burning pain scorched through his channels. Almost worse was the lack of response. He fell back and the other loomed beside him. Loki raised his hands in defense and tried to call the ice with the same lack of results, though without the fiery torture.

“Prince Loki, you are in no danger here. I am Gerald the senior healer of Torsborg. You have been injured and have mage sickness. Please don’t try to call your power again it will only cause you harm.” The old Jötunn said.

Loki struggled to understand. Why was he injured? His head was filled with confusing images. Thor angry and bleeding. Him snarling an insult as the Aesir. Thor bent over him hands on his throat, strangling him? No, it was a gentle touch he remembered, then why had he struck the man. He’d been fighting the wind when something hit him on the head and he fell? That wasn’t right either, He’d fallen first and then someone hit him…Thor? But why had he saved him after? 

Loki put his hands to his head and moaned. It hurt to think and the images shifted randomly. The sense of urgency increased. There was something he had to do, he had to finish… He shoved the bed clothes off and tried to push the elderly healer out of the way.

“I have to… I have to go… I have to…” The healer restrained him and forced him back on the bed. “It is alright my prince. The roof is stable, the vents are open and when the storm passes we will keep them swept clear. You have already told us. You need to rest now.”

“Thor.” Loki said, panic causing his voice to spike up “Where is Thor? I stabbed him… Where is he?” his voice shook as exhaustion took over. “He saved… I… I stabbed him… have to find him… can’t die... need him...the casket…

“It is alright Loki. I am here and uninjured. You are safe now, we are all safe because of you.” 

The deep rumbling voice calmed his fear. A too warm hand grasped his. Loki relaxed, his eyes shut and he slipped into sleep again. 

The healer wiped the sweat from Loki’s fevered brow. He raised his eyes to the Aesir seated across the bed, but Thor was looking only at the prince and it was concern, not anger that furrowed his brow. The healer shook his head. There was a long history between their realms and none of it was pleasant. He had no doubt what was growing between the two princes. He’d seen through the illusion when first meeting Thor, but it wasn’t his place to question the actions of his prince. Thor’s worried, angry pacing, his repeated trips from his room down to the doorway of Skarpr’s bedroom and the jealous looks he threw in the innkeeper’s direction advertised his feelings plainly enough. Loki’s frantic fear about his whereabouts, and the way he calmed under Thor’s touch, told the old Jötunn, his prince felt likewise, despite his slurred phrases about the casket and revenge. Others might rail against such a pairing, but the Gerald knew that a marriage between Asgard and Jötunheim would go far to ensure peace and prosperity for the damaged realm. He could only wish them the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor is confused and conflicted and Loki is just knackered.  
> Next chapter, what's up with the parents? Thor's to be precise.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are not well in Asgard. Loki wakes to an unusual sight.

“He has been gone under a week, there is no need for all this fuss.” Odin said. 

“Fuss? Instead of handing over an old war trophy, you leave our son in the hands of your greatest enemy and you dare to say I’m making a fuss?” 

Frigga paced the length of their private quarters, her hands clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms.

“Heimdall reported, that at his last sighting of Thor, he was being well treated.” Odin adjusted his grip on Gungnir “They won’t dare do anything to him. He’s no good to them dead. Laufey will no doubt try to trade him for something of lessor value in a few days.” 

“The last time Heimdall saw him? It’s been more than three days without any sign of him. You wagered Thor’s life that the Jötnar would not kill him. If he is dead…” Frigga glared at her husband. She could not think of any punishment she would mete out that described her anger. “Why would youendanger him so?”

“He thought nothing of endangering all of us with his foolish venture to Jötunheim.” Odin roared. “I expressly told him to leave the Jötnar alone and your son disregarded my order!”

“Thor is only my son when he doesn’t meet your expectations.” Frigga said in a voice that had grown cold and calm. “Yet I wonder, was it his disobedience alone that made you abandon him?”

“Is that not enough? I will not have another Hela!” 

“Then you should be glad Thor is my son, for you alone were responsible for your daughter’s ambition. I came too late to prevent her becoming a blood maddened killer.”

Frigga raised her chin. 

“Do not dissemble with me, husband. I have known you for far too many years. Why have you not attempted to rescue Thor?”

“Why should I retrieve the rebellious boy?” Odin grumbled. “It is fitting that he should suffer the consequences of his rash actions.”

Frigga kept her silence, waiting. When her husband stared complaining in this peevish tone she knew he would not be able to keep from justifying his deeds to her.

“How would I know where to strike, as long as that damned sorcerer of theirs keeps Thor hidden?” Odin said. “Until I can hunt down the mage, any attack against Jötunheim is doomed to failure.”

“So your plan was to let our son become their prisoner, that you may locate this Jötunn sorcerer?” 

“He cloaks himself from Heimdall, he bypassed my magic, and he infiltrated our castle with three of his kind. They could have been assassins instead of merely thieves. He is a danger to the realm. I cannot put Thor’s safety above that of Asgard.”

“Or your own.”

“It was his choice to go to Jotunheim! I did not send him! I forbade him to go!”

“You have taught him to answer every threat with immediate retaliation. You knew he would defy you! Thor could not stand by and allow such a challenge to go unanswered and you manipulated him into launching an attack you knew would fail. Why?”

Odin met Frigga’s glare with one of his own.

“I had hoped Thor would draw out that damned sorcerer so I could strike him down. Instead the coward hid himself and fought behind a shield of magic.”

“Unlike you, who hid behind my son.” Frigga’s voice was pure ice. “If you will not see to his safety than I shall.”

“Woman! Do not think to challenge me!” Odin bellowed. “Do you forget the cost of such conduct?”

“I have not forgotten the price I paid for peace, Odin. But consider this. Believe you my kinsfolk will not answer should I call them to arms? Do you wish to fight a war on two fronts with neither your strongest warrior nor Asgard’s most powerful mage at your side?”

“I do what I do for the security of the Nine. I must be a King first.”

“And I must be a mother first.”

Frigga swept from their quarters and ignored Odin’s furious demands she return. Strong as Odin’s magic was she knew he would not raise it against her. Vaniheim’s sorcerers were legendary and Frigga, with the help of her brother Freyr, had held off both Odin and Hela. It was the reason why Odin sued for peace and Vanaheim became an ally instead of a vassal state like Alfheim. Their marriage had cemented the alliance. She had even given up her Vanir name of Freya, for the Aesir form, Frigga. She knew well what the cost of peace was and didn't need her husband to remind her.

Odin decided not to give any order to constrain her movements. He would wait to see what she would do, before making any move that might signal they were at odds. It was important they give the appearance of a united front, now that he was considering war. The Casket of Winters was safe in his vault as long as the Dwarven created Destroyer was on guard. It was not the first time he had had words with his wife. She would calm down as soon as she had proof that Thor was safe. The mage couldn’t keep Thor shielded forever. Odin was sure the boy was in his custody, otherwise Heimdall would have located him by now. 

He knew Thor was alive because Mjölnir still longed for her master. That information he’d held back. If Frigga knew he had kept Mjölnir from Thor she truly would not forgive him. Let her believe the Jötunn mage had neutralized the hammer. Odin stood by the window and looked out on the golden towers of Asgard. He had to protect the realm and the mage was a terrible threat. It was a clever trick of the sorcerer to open a portal between Thor and his hammer. It wouldn’t have kept them apart forever, had Odin not snatched the hammer from the void between the worlds. When it was time, when he knew the identity of the sorcerer, he’d release Mjölnir and Thor could strike Jötunheim from the inside as he brought the might of Asgard down on them from the outside. Between the two of them they would crush the Jötnar.

Odin hated to think of the Frost Giants. Hated that they still breathed, struggling on the edge of survival. Hated that they still had the power to drag him from his satisfaction in all he accomplished to be the living reminder of his failure, of his father’s failure, of the unhealed wound of his mother’s death. He’d hoped they would perish in the centuries since Hela and he had met them in battle, but it seemed the vermin still scuttled like rats in the dying remains of their world. How they had managed to birth a sorcerer with enough power to challenge him, in the absence of the Casket of Ancient Winters, was a mystery. It was a mistake to have granted them the mercy of living out their last days. This attack was how they repaid his clemency. He had been too soft on them and on his own soldiers. He would not make that error again. Odin resolved to eradicate the monsters this time. They would always be a threat to Asgard as long as one Jötunn remained alive. No matter the cost, Jötunheim would fall. 

******

Frigga stepped into her garden and walked among the flowering bushes and fruiting trees. The birdsong was bright and cheerful and the scents of growing things eased her rage. There were pathways and pathways here. Some for the common folk, the servants who attended their queen’s needs and courtiers who visited her. Others were reserved for her alone. Not even Odin could walk the neatly mown footpaths and travel anywhere but within the confines of the old stone wall that embraced this peaceful place. Frigga paced the perimeter to calm her mind. Her garden was her refuge and an expected place for her to retreat. A simple barrier raised to keep Odin from entering was something he would respect. Her husband would assume this action of her and give her time to herself before he sought her company again. 

In his younger years he had been known to abandon Asgard for months after one of their arguments, carousing his way across Midgard and impregnating half a dozen enthralled mortal woman. She was never sure if his exploits were meant to annoy her or were simply his way of spending his time. He never gave a thought to his half mortal offspring and it was to Frigga or Thor they prayed. Whether Thor knew the short lived heroes were his half-brothers was something Frigga never brought up. Odin, however, hadn’t traveled to Midgard in at least two hundred years and Frigga was sure he’d remain in Asgard while searching for the Jötnar sorcerer. She counted on his attention staying on Jötunheim. Though Heimdall could not see her if she wished to remain concealed, he would know that she was missing, should he turn his gaze from the Frost Giant’s world. 

Therefor she first wove an illusion of herself, a copy that under the haze of the barrier would move as she would and give all appearance that the Queen was fretting and pacing in the privacy of her garden. The second spell was one of concealment. Thus hidden, Frigga turned her steps to the groomed trails and wandered seemingly at random, gathering power from the earth, the plants, the small animals that lived in the soil, and the larger ones that sheltered under bushes and in the graceful branches of the trees. 

As she did so she found the slightest of traces that someone else had walked here, in her sanctuary. A frost damaged bud, a leaf that was turned russet, a few crystals of ice in the deep shadowed edge of a calm pool, the lightest imprint of a boot in cold burned grass. Of his magic there was no remnant. He had passed carefully, even respectfully through her space. Were she not attuned to the life of garden she would have never known he had been here. There was little doubt in her mind who the trespasser was and she followed the faded clues as she walked. The last step took her from Asgard to a peaceful forest whose golden leafed trees towered overhead. 

The singing chirping cries were not all birds and Frigga knew she was once again in the realm of Alfheim where her brother served as regent. The trail ended here, for natural frost had touched these woods and the magic of the twittering fairy folk who lived here eradicated any signs of the Jötunn mage. They may have seen him, but if they would share that information with one of the Vanir or even the Elves was anyone’s guess. Frigga hurried along the trail toward the castle where Freyr held court. The more knowledge she could gather, the better her chances of securing Thor’s return. It was no surprise when she was meet halfway by Freyr himself, mounted on a white palfrey and holding the reins to its twin. Always had they this connection and he knew when she was in his realm even with her concealing shield. The shimmer of power that enveloped her as she mounted the offered horse, let Frigga know her brother was also protective of their privacy. On the way back to his home she enlightened him on all that had happened since Thor’s attack on the giants. 

******

Loki awoke to a darkened room lit by one dim lamp. There was a soft low rumbling that seemed to be both in the room and outside it. He remembered… the last vent. How he had poured the last of his strength out to clear it. He remembered the way the wind howled and shoved at him. He’d stumbled and then nothing until he woke on the catwalk, his head throbbing with pain and Thor crouching over him. He sorted through confused visions of an old Jotun whose touch and words eased the pain and Thor…Thor holding his hand? Even now his hand was warm. He glanced down and saw the Aesir’s broad pink hand was over his. He followed the arm up to the sleeping form of the man, slouched over in a chair and snoring softly. That was part of the sound he’d heard, but not all of it. There was another low rumble Loki felt, rather than heard. It made the building vibrate ever so slightly and Loki was instantly afraid that his efforts were for naught and the roof over Torsborg was collapsing. He struggled up and sat panting as a wave of dizziness overtook him. 

Thor was instantly awake, his warrior’s reflexes snapping him from dreaming to awareness in a second. He saw the swaying sorcerer and reached out to steady him.

“Take it easy, Loki.” Thor said as Loki swung his feet off the bed and attempted to stand. “You are still weak and should rest.”

Another vibration shook the floor under Loki’s bare feet and he cursed at the oblivious Aesir and tried to push him from his path. He might as well have tried to shove a mountain out of his way.

“Rest?” Loki croaked, his throat raw and dry. “The roof is falling. Can you not hear?”

“Nay,” Said Thor. Who to Loki’s shame, passed an arm around his ribs to keep him from falling to the floor. His legs refused to cooperate and tears ran down his face at the thought of his failure and the lives soon to be lost. 

“We must get the people outside before it is too late. Thor! You must get them out now.”

“Nay, Loki the roof is fine, it is only thunder that you hear.” 

Thor picked him up and returned him to the bed.

“WHAT?” Loki cried

He stared at Thor as if the man had lost his mind. Thor turned and filled a mug from a pitcher on the bedside table.

“It is only thunder. The blizzard is over. It’s a rainstorm now. Gerald sent some of your people to check the roof and it is holding up fine. There is a bit of water coming through a few of the vents from the snow melt, but it is draining to the lake so there is no problem.”

He handed the mug to Loki, and Loki, too stunned to do otherwise, took a drink. The liquid was infused with herbs that soothed his throat and swallowing gave him time to think. He put the mug down and looked over Thor’s face, trying to read it. It was as open as it had always been. The man had no craft at hiding his thoughts.

“Help me up.” Loki said. When Thor opened his mouth to argue Loki added. “That is a command. Help me up and out of the inn that I may see for myself.”

Thor frowned, but instead of helping Loki to stand Thor simply picked him up again and carried him like an overgrown child. It was undignified, and in any other situation he would have objected, but his need to see the truth of Thor’s words overrode even his own pride.

Outside of Skarpr’s bedroom the pale light of day came through the inn’s windows. The main room was strangely deserted and the city eerily quiet. Loki’s heart beat in fear, not knowing what he would see once he was outside. His questions were answered a moment later as Thor bore him through the curtained doorway. The streets were thronged with Jötnar. They were standing quietly and gazing upward. Loki followed their gaze and took in the sight of water cascading in silver streams down causeways not used in half a millennia. But beyond that was something he had not ever seen in all the days of his life. Rain pattered gently down on the clear roof, the drops slowing as he watched. The heavy grey clouds that shrouded Jötunheim were parting and the smallest slivers of pure blue began to spread across the sky.

“See,” Thor said. “It was only a passing thunderstorm.” He smiled. “Looks like it will be a pleasant day for once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a cold, so all my fics are running behind.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrayal.

Loki squirmed out of Thor’s arms and stood on trembling legs. Thor slipped an arm around his waist and Loki steadied himself. He took a deep breath and Thor felt the tingle of power as Loki called his seidr.

“Seal the tunnels!” Loki’s imperious voice rang out over the quiet murmurs of the townspeople. Startled faces stared up at their prince. “All guards are to immediately take up defensive positions. Engineers, I want that lake water diverted and the reserve cisterns filled. Drovers, round up the livestock and load feed in the wagons. Quartermasters, divide the districts and take charge of moving provisions into the deep caverns. Healers, gather your medical supplies and get those unable to help down below. I want emergency medical stations set up in the first and third passages. Citizens, look to your council for further directions, in the meantime, return to your homes and pack only those things necessary to support life. We are evacuating the town. Council members report to me in twenty minutes.”

The townspeople looked up at Loki in confusion. Even the guards seemed stunned at his reaction. 

“Do you think this will go unnoticed?” Loki snarled at them. “Our defenses have been breached. The Aesir now know where we live and the cold no longer will keep them at bay. Odin’s warriors may already be on the Bifrost. Move!”

The crowd boiled into action and shouted orders were heard above the general confusion, as those named took up their prince’s orders.

“Inside!”

“Loki you can’t believe…” Thor said, looking to the Jötunn he was propping upright. Thor’s voice was filled with doubt and confusion over Loki’s obvious anger.

“I order you to help me inside this instant, thrall.” Loki hissed. His nails dug into Thor’s hand drawing blood. “and hold your tongue.”

Thor growled in frustration, but helped Loki back into inn and then to Skarpr’s bathroom. Skarpr and Dallr were close behind them and Loki ordered them to set up the main room as an impromptu council chamber. Loki knew it would take time for the city’s council members to arrive and he intended to meet them looking like he was in control, not like he was going to fall over at any minute. He also needed to know just how deeply Thor had betrayed them. Thor ran a bath and Dallr brought down a change of clothes from their room. Loki sat on the edge of the tub and tried to rally his thoughts. The townspeople were counting on him. He'd need to alert Laufey to the threat of attack and didn't want to chance an overland messenger. Hiemdal's eyes were, no doubt, trained on the area now that it was clear of its snow cover. Loki rubbed between his eyes, a headache was coming on. Dallr stepped in with a pile of towels and handed them to Thor at Loki's hand wave.

After Dallr left them and Thor latched the door, Loki ordered Thor to help him undress. It was an operation that under other circumstances he would have enjoyed, but now his fury only made him want to get it over with. He lowered himself into the water and ordered Thor to bathe him while he sorted out his thoughts. He’d need every bit of his remaining strength to pull off his next move. The washcloth was wielded with a brisk harshness that told him of the Aesir’s ire. Loki fumed as Thor washed the smell of sweat and sickness from his skin. Loki glared at him, and could see how the man’s lip was raised and his teeth gritted in a snarl. Oh Thor was angry, angry that Loki had seen through his plot, Loki thought. He’d be a lot angrier by the time Loki was done with him. Loki knew that Thor’s magic was eating away at the torc’s constraints, but he had thought it was strong enough to hold his power in check. He hadn’t reinforced any commands because Thor seemed to be sympathetic to the Jötunn’s plight. Loki cursed himself for underestimating the untrustworthiness of the man. He was a fool to have thought for one moment that Thor intended anything but harm to Jötunheim. That careful watch over him was to see that he didn’t interfere with the Aesir’s plans to reveal them to Odin. Enough regrets, it was all over now. Loki settled his mind and sharpened his seidr. When Thor lifted him from the tub, Loki struck.

He grasped the Aesir by the hair, clasped his jaw in the other hand and drove his siedr into Thor’s psyche like a blade. This was no gentle perusal of memories, this was a brutal attack against the magic at Thor’s core. Loki shuddered in pain as lightning flared over his skin, Thor's defenses trying to hold him off. He focused on forging the connection as he fought to channel the elemental force and bend it to his will. Loki shut his eyes in dark ecstasy as his senses were overwhelmed in a burning, crackling surge of power. Gone was the weakness, the shaking nausea of too little magic. Gone too was the cold calm center of Loki’s soul. He rode the storm as it shrieked and raged, and the storm rode him, shattering the carefully built walls that kept his wild spirit caged. Thor bellowed and dropped to his knees, clutching his head. 

“Loki, NO! STOP!”

Loki barely heard his shout as he ripped at Thor’s mind, using his renewed seidr to plunge past surface thoughts into the heart of his psyche. He wasn’t going to listen to anything the lying Aesir said, he intended to tear the truth of his betrayal from Thor’s brain itself. Thor wrestled for control, but this battle was in Loki's arena and Thor was already shackled by the torc. Loki forced the truth from Thor’s thoughts, forced the secrets hidden since his capture, cracked his emotions into pieces. Loki hunted through every corner of Thor’s being for the lie, for the moment of betrayal and found…

Thor’s growing respect for the Jötnar.  
His sorrow at their plight.  
His pain and shame for his own attack on Jötunheim.  
His resolution to help repair the damage that his father wrought.  
His joy that his unconscious elemental power had transformed the storm and brought a touch of spring to Torsburg.  
Shining through it all, like a golden ray of the sun that now sparkled overhead, was his increasing attraction and affection for Loki.

Affection Loki had just killed as thoroughly as if he’d stabbed Thor through the heart.

Loki let go of Thor's face and stepped back. Thor climbed to his feet and refused to meet Loki’s eyes. His expression was one of a terrible calm. 

“I didn’t know.” Loki whispered.

Thor made no reply. He stood quietly.

“Thor I…” Loki said backing away from the too still Aesir. “I’m… I had to know.”

Thor only turned his head away.

Loki’s anger flared, his nerves flayed from the alien power that still sparked under his skin. “I did it for my people. I had to be sure you were not a threat.” He took another breath. He could hear the low voices of the gathering council, how much they had heard, he didn’t know. 

“Damn it, Thor speak to me.”

Thor turned his gaze back to Loki. There was still no expression on his face, but Loki flinched from the white hot rage in his eyes.

“Is that an order, master?” Contempt in every syllable.

Loki backed further away, shook his head. Thor again gave his attention to the tiled mural which decorated the wall over the tub. 

Loki grabbed his clothes and fled the bathroom. He dressed in silence, his hands shaking, not from fatigue, but from the enormity of the wrong he'd committed. He tried to tell himself he had no choice, but the truth was that he had panicked. All Loki had seen was how his actions in bringing Thor here, had put Torsborg in danger. He had allowed himself to be driven by his fear that he’d failed to protect the town, as he’d failed to protect Jötunheim. He’d never given Thor the chance to explain what had happened, so sure was he of Thor’s betrayal. Thor had cared about him, cared about his people and had desired Loki, as much as Loki desired him. Loki had met his caring and compassion with a vicious, violating attack that no one could ever forgive.

Loki pulled on his boots and straightened his clothes and smoothed his expression. The council was waiting for him. His people were depending on him. War was imminent and he couldn’t afford to be weak. After this was over, if he survived, he’d give himself over to the Aesir for judgment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when things were going so well.  
> I did tag this as noncom. Loki's violation of Thor's mind is as bad as a violation of his body.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two meetings

Loki sealed his roiled emotions away. He had a town to evacuate and people to defend. There was no place for Loki the Jötunn here, only for prince Loki, the last born of king Laufey, the most powerful sorcerer on Jotunheim. 

The Council members were all elder Jötnar and they had gathered in the common room, around two tables Dallr had hastily shoved together. They ceased their conversation when he entered and more than one frowned down at the undersized prince. Loki pulled up a smaller chair and stood on its seat, his hands resting on the table top so he could meet them eye to eye. He could sense opposition in the stubborn lines of their mouths and the way that they exchanged silent glances. 

“Your highness,” the eldest began.

Loki cut him off. If he let them voice their doubts he’d be arguing all afternoon. He had to take control and remind them their place was to execute his orders, not question them.

“You know your people better than I, so I am depending on your knowledge to make the evacuation go smoothly. Those of our people too weak to fight will be moved first, along with any caretakers. Next the Jötnar untrained in warfare. Let all who are able, lend a hand in carrying down that which we will need to stand a long siege. It may take time for assistance to arrive. I know most of you are old enough to have fought the Aesir before. Your knowledge of tactics will be of immense help in the upcoming conflict. Who are your swiftest riders? I want two sent to my father, that our king be informed of the danger.”

There, he thought that should stifle any argument. Compliment them, let them know I value their experience, give them tasks and remind them of my status. Don’t give them time to think and they will follow as a matter of habit. Loki remembered Helblindi’s humorous description of the most important quality of leadership, “in front and moving.” 

“Two messengers your highness?” One of the council members asked. 

Before Loki could answer Magnhildr, the eldest council member said, “At least two. For if one is stopped, the other may get through. Send them on separate paths.”

Loki was glad Magnhildr had spoken up, it meant he wasn’t alone. “Yes. Let it be as Magnhildr said. Also send messengers to the closest three towns. They should be making plans to evacuate if we cannot stop the Aesir here.”

“But what makes you think we are…”

Loki slammed his hands down on the table. The elemental magic he’d stolen from Thor crackled across the polished bone, leaving charred black lines in its wake. The Jötnar drew back at his display of power, unintentional as it was.

“Are you questioning your prince’s orders? In a time of war?” Loki let the unspoken threat of treason join the acrid smoke hanging in the air. 

The Jotun who had spoken snapped his mouth shut and shook his head.

“Good.” Loki continued. “I’d hate to see anyone lose their head. It is up to you to keep the peace and make this an orderly withdrawal. Your people are depending on you and many will be confused and frightened. This is not the time to be halfhearted in your leadership. If there is anyone who will have difficulty performing their duties, step down now.” 

None of the council left and Loki breathed an internal sigh of relief. Then they got down to the business of assigning jobs and listing resources. It was tedious but necessary, and Loki’s mind wandered as the discussion moved from allocation of living quarters to the problem of sewage disposal to barrier construction.

The meeting would have gone on longer, but once the vital work was finished Loki silenced those who only wanted to air their own importance. Loki watched the council file out, the meeting had gone well and hopefully he’d impressed them with a sense of urgency. 

Loki ran his hands through his hair. There was so much to do and the threat of true war hung over their heads. Not that little skirmish he’d started to get Thor to Jötunheim, but a battle that could wipe his people from existence. Every move he’d made to save the Jötnar was countered by circumstance and his own ignorance. He kept underestimating the Aesir, both Odin’s hatred and Thor’s power. He wasn’t fit to lead a battle, he was no general, and he’d never fought in any real conflict. He wished Býleistr was here. His older brother might be a bossy pain in the ass, but he’d know what to do. 

Loki heard Skarpr’s footsteps and turned. 

“Come, have a drink. It will help you clear your head.” Skarpr said.

He led Loki into his tiny office and closed the door behind them. He poured out a measure of mead and stood by while Loki downed it in one swift swallow. The warmth burned down Loki's throat and settled in his belly, releasing some of the coiled tension. The other warborn opened his arms and Loki fled to the comfort of his old friend. He buried his head on Skarpr’s shoulder and shook, overcome by a torrent of emotions he couldn’t even begin to sort out.

“You’re not alone Loki. You don’t have to bear this by yourself.” 

Loki knew he had others to help, but it didn’t change that he was responsible for their situation in the first place. He shut his eyes holding back tears and breathed in the once familiar scent of beer and polish and smoke that always clung to his ex-lover. Skarpr’s stiff armed embrace brought about a flood of other memories, of nights of shared passion and days of quiet exploration. His roiled feelings sought an accustomed outlet. Loki pressed his lips to his friend’s neck in habit and he licked his tongue over the kin lines. Skarpr pulled back with a small frown and held Loki at arm’s length. 

“I… I shouldn’t have done that.” Loki flushed in embarrassment. 

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Skarpr answered, letting him go. “I’m with Dallr now. And you, my dear, sweet prince, are tangled up with your prisoner. Do not look so shocked. You weren’t the only one to come here after his capture. There were soldiers who returned before you, with the tale of how Odin’s son was now the youngest prince's slave. ‘Bari’ was too ignorant of our ways to be even the stupidest of southerners. Besides, I was right behind you when you called him thrall.”

Loki shook his head. “It wasn’t Thor's fault, it was mine that I didn’t understand his power better.” 

Loki looked at Skarpr, trying to read his expression. The other Jötunn stood with pursed lips, the frown crease having returned. 

“The way he’s been looking after you the past two days, I would think betraying you would be the farthest thing from his mind. There was no need to put on a show when you were unconscious and he thought himself unobserved. But since neither of us have any experience with the Aesir.” Skarpr tapped Loki on the chest. “This is an unreliable measure of worthiness. Trust your head over your heart, my prince. He may be playing a longer game.”

Loki turned away from his friend and stared blankly at a manifest for a laundry service that lay on the desk, as though the answer to his problems was encoded in the cost of bedding washed.  
“He isn’t. I now know he intended us no harm.” Loki’s mouth twisted. “I made sure of it.” Loki took a breath, it was important to him that Skarpr understand Thor wasn’t a danger to the Jötnar.  
“I stole the truth from his mind.”

The sharp indrawn breath was a judgement. 

“Loki! You did not!”

Loki spun around and meet Skarpr’s stunned expression.

“I did! And I’d do it again.” Loki snapped. “I cannot risk having an enemy in our midst. Especially one of his strength.” 

Loki rested his elbows on the desk and put his face in his hands. 

“He was innocent. He is not the enemy he once was. At least not to Jötunheim.” Loki sighed. “He undoubtedly hates me now.”

Skarpr refrained from answering and simply rested a hand on Loki’s back.

“I can’t condone what you did, but I understand why you did it. I’m glad my concerns are so much smaller then yours.” Skarpr rubbed between Loki’s shoulders. “I could not make the choices of a prince. However, that doesn’t change that we are friends. I will always support you.”

Loki took a deep breath. It was good to be able to confide in Skarpr. “Does Dallr know who he is?”

“Gods no. He can’t keep a secret to save his life. Word would be all over Torsborg in an hour. But Loki, you can’t keep who Thor is, hidden for long. Others will figure it out.”

“I know, I never intended to be here long enough for that. Skarpr, I never intended for any of this to happen.”

“Of that I have no doubt my prince. The Norns call the tune and we can only dance.”

******

Thor stalked back to their room. Dallr, his arms full of provisions, shied to one side of the hall as the smaller man passed, so furious was his expression. Thor wished there was a door he could slam as he entered the room. Throwing the curtain back gave him no satisfaction. He paced the room. Why hadn't Loki asked what he wanted to know? No. He had to prove how much Thor was his slave, for only equals asked. Masters took. Masters used. Thor was only a thing a tool to further the sorcerer’s ambition. He would kill Loki for what he had done. Rip the beating heart from his ice cold breast. If he even had a heart and not a lump of stone. How could have been such a fool to trust the filthy monster?

Though he wasn’t filthy Thor’s memory provided, hadn’t he just given the Jötunn a bath? Thor tried to suppress the memory of Loki's lean, naked body half submerged in water. How his skin had felt under Thor's hands. He growled. He was the one violated. The bastard had ordered him to bathe him hadn’t he? He’d been so weak he could barely stand, relying on Thor for everything and Thor was idiotically glad to help him. By the Norns, even then he’d commanded instead of requesting. He was convinced that Thor had betrayed him, on no more evidence than a change in the weather. Thor knew that. The exchange hadn’t been one way, the Jötunn’s thoughts had leaked all over Thor’s mind as he rifled through his memories.

That was another element that enraged him. He understood why Loki had done it. Thor had felt his panicked terror. And he didn’t want to. He hadn’t asked to have Loki’s overdeveloped sense of responsibility and shame shoved down his throat. He was damned if he was going to feel an iota of sympathy toward the Jötunn. Loki choose to attack him. Chose to take what Thor would have freely offered. There was no excusing his actions. 

He was going to beat the shit out of the bastard. Make him pay for what he’d done. He wanted to see Loki broken and bleeding and begging. That would assuage his anger. He let the vision play out. Loki crawling in pain. Loki wearing the thrice damned torc. Loki begging his favor, on his knees, those crimson eyes framed by tear wet lashes, his thin lips parted, soft and eager...

Thor cursed and through a punch into the wall. Stones and mortar cracked under his fist, exploding outward to rain on the busy street below. Startled shouts replied to his destruction. Thor looked down.

“Monsters” he said to himself, “stupid, ugly, lying monsters all of you.”

He wanted to hate the Jötnar, hate every one of them for Loki’s actions. But a voice called up,

“Are you alright?” 

Thor could hear the concern and his anger toward the Jötnar, melted away. It had only been the memory of an emotion. They were not to blame, not to be judged by the action of their prince. Thor waved his hand in negation and withdrew his head from the hole. The falling stones had done no damage. 

He couldn’t say the same of his unconscious storm calling. It wasn’t until the second boom of thunder that he’d realized it was _his_ storm and not just a passing natural occurrence. It was born of his concern for Loki and it had cleared because of his elation when the sorcerer woke up. He hadn’t tried to stop the thunderstorm, thinking warmer weather would be a good thing for the Jotnar. He’d not known a thaw would mark the town for invasion. If only Loki had explained why the warmth was a danger, had given Thor time to explain his own actions. Even given him time to see if he could repair the damage. But no, Thor wasn’t worth his time. Loki had made that abundantly clear. Thor was only a burden, something he was required to keep alive because of custom. Not worthy of the simplest courtesy. Definitely not worthy to be thought of as an equal. The arrogant fuck. Thor snarled and resumed his pacing. He was going to break the Jötunn’s skinny neck. He was going to…

The curtain parted as Loki stepped through. Without another thought, Thor grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around and before Loki could raise his hands… Thor’s fist slammed into his nose. The Jötunn tumbled across the room and ended up in a heap against the far wall.

Thor strode forward, anger burning in him as if he were aflame, sparks dripping from his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well things are looking up. They are interacting at least. Though it is not, perhaps, the best way to communicate his anger and sense of violation, I'm fairly sure Thor is getting his point across.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorting out some things. An agreement.

Pain and surprise triggered Loki’s defensive reaction. Without thought he directed a blast of kinetic energy towards his attacker. Fueled by the Aesir’s own power, it slammed Thor into the rock wall hard enough send cracks threading between the stones. 

Thor bounced off the wall and into a charge, racing toward the Jötunn as he sprang to his feet. Loki raised his hand, greenish light glowing bright in his palm, while ice sheathed the other, building into a razor edged sword, and braced to meet him. There was a thunderclap that shook the building as they came together. Loki’s sword shattered from a burst of lightning that leapt from Thor’s hand, but the green light encircled Thor’s throat and squeezed. Thor swung a fist and Loki narrowly sidestepped it, he wasn't as lucky on the second strike as it hit his gut, doubling him over. The light shivered and dispelled and Thor was able to grab a quick breath. He wasn’t prepared for the sorcerer to straighten up and hit him with an uppercut that snapped his head back hard enough to stagger him. Loki followed it with a stomach punch of his own and Thor’s quickly snatched breath was knocked out of him.

Thor grabbed Loki around the waist, slammed him to the floor and head-butted the Jötunn, satisfied to hear the smack of Loki’s head hitting stone floor. Thor grasped the stunned sorcerer by the throat and pulled his fist back for the blow that would smash his face into pulp, when Loki gasped out,

“I command du, stop.” 

Thor's arm froze, his other hand wouldn’t tighten and he growled sounding more like an enraged bear then a man.

“I will kill you, you bastard.”

“Mode likely.” Loki answered.

He shoved Thor's hand off his throat and wiped blood from his face. A burst of green and a sharp tug reset his nose. He looked up at Thor and grinned without humor.

“As much as I would like to continue our disagreement,” Loki panted, “I have a city to evacuate and defenses to put in place. So move your over muscled ass.”

“Disagreement?” Thor shouted, still pinning Loki to the floor with his weight. “You rifled through my mind!”

“Yes, for which, I concede, you have a right to be angry. However, I have more important things to deal with at the present then assuaging your hurt feelings. Now either move or I’ll make you do it. We can settle our differences after my people are safe.”

Thor got to his feet and Loki sat up. They eyed one another distrustfully. 

“This is not over.”

“I never said it was, Thor. But it is personal to us. Will you give me your word you will wait until the war between our realms is over to peruse your revenge? I would rather not have to invoke the torc.”

“Now my word is good enough, sorcerer?”

Loki rubbed the back of his head and winced. “Having been inside your skull, thick though it is, I know you to be a man of honor.”

“Honor is the heart of Aesir society.”

“Pardon me if I thought your people incapable of it. Their dealings with my world have inclined me to doubt they even knew the meaning of the word.”

Thor narrowed his eyes, but refrained from rising to the bait. 

“I give you my promise I will not pursue my revenge, until your people are safe." Thor said. "And on my honor I will do all I can to prevent another war. We, my people and yours, have too much in common to be enemies.”

Thor extended his hand down to Loki.

“That’s usually a reason for wars, rather than one to prevent them.” Loki observed. 

He took Thor’s hand and to his surprise, was pulled to his feet.

“As you have given me your assurance of good behavior, it would bode ill for me to not return the favor. Not that the damn thing seems to working all that well. I’m going to adjust the torc so it only helps to shield your appearance and protect you from the cold. Will you trust me to do that?”

“Since you could order me to, it seems I have little choice in the matter.”

“I asked, because I’m trying to reasonable.”

“As am I. Do what you must, sorcerer. But do not think it will win you any concessions.”

“Fuck you!” Loki swore and put his hands on the torc, hunting out the original spell that was made to protect the wearer. 

“Be careful sorcerer or I may take you up on that offer.”

Loki was almost through realigning the spell to accept the disguising glamour, when Thor’s words penetrated his mind. He fit the modification into place and lifted his eyes from the torc to see Thor’s red flushed face.

"Take me up on it?" he queried. 

“I didn’t mean that!!” Thor all but shouted.

“Oh Truly? Yet, somehow I doubt your word now.”

Loki smiled and leaned so close that Thor thought he was going to kiss him. But all he did was chuckle and pull back, to refocus his attention on the torc.

Anger spiked in Thor, a red hot wave of it at the arrogant assumption of the damned Jötunn. He once again grabbed Loki by the shoulder, gave him a shake, pulled him close and… 

Kissed him with all the hurt and rage and passion the cursed bastard inspired in him. 

Loki resisted for a moment, startled and angry at what amounted to an assault. But the fire raised in his own blood by the fight, by his over wrought emotions found its outlet. His hands moved from the torc up to Thor’s head and he kissed back, hard and hungry.

The kiss was one of fury, not tenderness, and they nipped and wrestled and tried to overpower each other. Thor’s fingers bruised Loki’s shoulders and the back of his neck, while Loki’s grip pulled golden strands free of Thor’s scalp. Neither would give in to the other and they broke apart panting, eyes blazing and half inclined to return to trading blows.

“Damn you!” Thor swore, shaking from the desire that sent his heart racing. His fists clenched in agitation.

“Damn you, you Aesir bastard!” Loki returned, baring his teeth. “You’re the one who started this.” Seidr coiled in his hands and he fought to keep it under control.

“I started it? You’ve been flirting with me since the very first day. I’m surprised you’ve managed to keep yourself in check so long.”

“If you weren’t so stupidly repressed we could have had this out and been done with it. You know damn well you want me, just as much as I want you, but you’ve been too much of a coward to admit it.”

“No man calls me a coward!” Thor roared and threw a punch at Loki’s head. 

“Now you’re an oath breaker as well!” Loki taunted as he danced backward, his fists raised.

Thor paused. “I am not. I’m going to beat your ass for calling me a coward, not for the assault on my mind.”

“Hah!” Loki grinned and threw a left that Thor blocked. “It is your ass that is going to get beaten. You wouldn’t admit to yourself that you wanted to fuck a Jötunn. That’s cowardly as I see it.”

“I don’t want to fuck a Jötunn, I want to fuck you!” Thor snapped and kicked out at Loki forcing him to jump up onto his bed to avoid the blow.

“You have a strange way of showing your desire, Aesir. Is this how you court in Asgard? Pick a fight with your would be lover?”

“Is this how you do it on Jötunheim? Enslave the object of your unwanted attentions, and compel them to your bed by wearing them down with your constant flirting and the unspoken threat of force?”

Loki dropped his hands and went icily still. 

“No. Never. Never that.” His voice was a whisper and his expression as he met Thor’s gaze was one of horror and shame. “Never that.” 

Thor stepped back, his anger held at bay by Loki’s sudden transformation, from grinning adversary to a man frozen in shock. 

Loki took a deep breath. He reached one hand out and ripped the compulsion spell from the torc. There was a blinding flash of light and the shattering backlash of the dying spell dropped both Jotun and Aesir to the floor.

It was quiet in the room except for the occasional soft floomp of fabric hitting stone.

Thor was the first to lift his head.

“Are we done here?”

Loki took a moment to puzzle out Thor’s words through the ringing in his ears.

“Yes I believe we are.”

“Good.” said Thor.

He rolled on to his back and watched as small pieces of mattress wool and pillow feathers detached themselves from the ceiling and drifted downward.

Loki pushed himself up and sat back on his heels. He looked around at the shambles of their room. The final explosion insured that any piece of furniture or wall hanging left intact from their fight, was not so now. 

“Skarpr is going to skin us both and make rugs from our hides.” Loki said wearily.

“They’ll be damn ugly rugs. Yours is already lumpy and threadbare.”

Thor laughed. 

Loki hesitated, wondering if he should be insulted, but the absurdity of it struck him and he joined Thor in laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of resolution and air clearing. No, Thor is not going to forgive Loki that easily. But there is more to the story, which shall be revealed in future chapters. Hey, they finally kissed. Sure it was a violent angry kiss, but a kiss none the less.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin in Asgard. Njord and family in Vanaheim. Plans and a bit of history. One more secret revealed in Jötunheim.

Odin clutched the missive in his hand and leashed his reaction with millennia of practiced control. He looked up at the Vanir messenger. He barely refrained from sending the man’s head back as his reply, so great was his fury.

“Return to your lord. I will send him no message at this time.” Odin said.

That ought to cause them to stew a bit. It was the least they deserved. He dismissed the man with a wave of his hand. When the doors had shut behind the Vanr, Tyr ventured,

“Brother, what troubles you so?”

“Traitors, again traitors within my own house. Am I always to be betrayed? Will you be next to turn against me?”

“Odin how can you think that? Have I not stood beside you for nigh on five thousand years?”

“It was you who counseled leniency toward the Jötnar, Tyr. Had I allowed Hela to destroy them all it may well have sated her desire for the throne. Nor would they now be a threat to the realm.”

“I have no love for the monsters. They were beaten and I saw need to further waste Aesir lives. Not with the other realms newly conquered. You know as well as I, that if we’d resorted to genocide the Jötnar may have garnered allies. Muspelheim folded after the single combat ritual and their army was disbanded not eliminated. Surtr is not known for his honor, only his lassitude.” Tyr replied. He rose from his seat and walked toward his brother. “Hela’s treachery was planned long before the war with Jötunheim. As you proved at her trial.” He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Now tell me what has angered you so and stop prevaricating.”

“Njord threatens to withdraw support should I invade Jötunheim.” Odin growled. 

“Why?” Try asked, his face reflected his shock. “The Vanir have the most freedom of any realm.” 

“Because my dear wife has fled to her brother and together they have convinced their father to take this stance."

Tyr rocked back on his heels. 

“But you said…” Tyr stopped, the battle plan was more important than Odin’s lies to save face. “If Frigga will not stand with us we will be sorely hampered. Should she and the Vanir actively oppose us we would be hard pressed to hold our own borders secure.” 

“She will not oppose us as long as Thor is on our side. She will do nothing to endanger him.”

“Are you certain you can count on Thor’s help? You disowned him. I should think he’s angry with you about that.”

“He’ll fight against his captors. Do you think he sent us that signal to help them? When he regains Mjölnir he’ll know he is back in my favor.”

“You mean to reinstate him as your heir?” Tyr asked quietly.

“And if I do?” Odin scowled. “It is my right as king to decide my heir. Do not forget that.”

“I only asked, my king, since rescinding a public decree of such importance, so soon after giving it… It may give the impression you are indecisive.” 

Odin surged to his feet.  
“Do you dare to cast aspersion on my fitness to rule? I know your game Tyr. Ever have you been envious of me. Do you think I would allow that useless lump you call son govern this realm? He cannot even govern his own wife.”

Tyr crossed his arms and his mouth became a hard line. “Odin, I know you are distraught. For that reason I will overlook your insults. Have a care brother, that you do not drive away all your allies.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It is advice, nothing more.”

Tyr turned on his heel and stalked from the King’s private audience chamber. He knew Odin had always been cautious, never trusting in surface appearance. In the past such thinking had served him well in managing the realms. But lately it seemed his caution had slid into paranoia. Odin was beginning to act more and more as their father had in his last days, though Borr’s answer to mistrust was to cut Asgard away from the other realms.

Tyr shook his head. He wished Ve was still alive. His younger brother had always been the diplomatic one, capable of handling Odin in his worst moods. He had been good at pulling answers from Odin and getting him to think and see reason. After Ve’s death Frigga had taken on that role. Now that she was away there was none to whom Odin would listen. 

Tyr rubbed his chin and sighed. He was more comfortable on the battle field where the lines were clearly drawn. He wished Odin had given the Jötnar the Casket of Winters centuries ago. It was useless as a weapon to any but the royal family of Jötunheim. Even then it had been a fairly poor one against the power of Gungnir. Laufey had petitioned for its return in the years after the war, promising fealty to Asgard, but Odin would not be moved. This last attempt showed the lengths they would go. Try wondered why they wanted it so badly and why Odin was so adamant to keep it from them, that he’d sacrifice his last son. 

He ran his hand through his short cropped hair. Odin was his king and his brother and Tyr would follow him into hel if need be. It wasn’t his place to question Odin’s reasons. “If not his, then who’s?” The traitorous question slipped into his uneasy thoughts.

He frowned and turned his mind to revising the invasion plan without Frigga’s help. Would Odin be countering the sorcerer? Or was the king relying on Thor to kill the Jötunn mage? Tyr headed to the Bifrost to confer with Heimdall. Later he would brief his battle leaders on the new plan. The Einherjar were ready to move at a moment’s notice. Centuries of putting down brush rebellions and raiding outlaws and trolls had kept his men trained to the very highest standard. They would not be found wanting when called to do their duty. Tyr hoped that said duty would not cost them too dearly.

******

Odin retreated to his private quarters and sank onto the padded chair by his desk. He tried to focus on the status and manning reports, without success. His mind circled back to the problem at hand. The attack by the Jötnar could not have come at a worse time. If only Frigga would think with her head instead of her heart. He’d sped up Thor’s coronation so that he could go into his rest knowing that the kingdom would be in safe hands. A strong Thor on the throne and wise Frigga as his adviser would keep Asgard secure if he did not wake up. 

Odin rubbed his hand over his eyes. He was so weary. He’d put the Odinsleep off for months in preparation for his son’s ascension. Then, at the very moment when all was ready for him to step down, this damn Jötunn sorcerer dared to violate their home. How could he relinquish the rule of the nine realms with this threat hanging over their heads? He had to eliminate the sorcerer now.

First however, he must draw the creature out. Thor’s attack had been his best chance to do so, but the Jötunn was too adept at concealing his presence. To give the Casket of Winters into the hands of the Jötnar was sheer folly. They would rebuild their world and then spread across the nine realms like a plague. Had they not invaded Midgard in an effort to set themselves up as rivals to Asgard’s power? While the humans were of little account, the planet itself was rich in resources. If Odin hadn’t stopped them, they would have set the nine realms into turmoil. Surtr would have allied his world with them to defeat Asgard. Odin had no doubt of that. The fire giant resented his defeat at Odin’s hands. He’d been angered because cleverness and not strength had allowed Odin to prevail. 

Odin harrumphed, it was his own damn fault for not restricting the combat to the strictly physical. Only a fool would go into a fight with a stronger opponent using only strength as his weapon. Even Thor, bullheaded as he was, had a grasp of strategy, though he’d allowed his passions to overrule him on more than one occasion. Odin shook his head. There was too much of Frigga in the boy. He was idealist to a fault and didn’t understand the hard choices a king had to make. As intelligent as Thor was, he lacked cunning. Which was why Odin intended to hold Mjölnir back until his army was on the ground in Jötunheim. There would be no need for disassembling at that point and Thor would strike them from the inside as Asgard’s army harried them from without. Perhaps Thor would even be able to eliminate the sorcerer if he could take him by surprise.

Odin sighed. His head sank on his breast. He would allow himself a few hours of sleep until Tyr’s return. He shouldn’t have lashed out at his brother. Tyr was loyal unto death and he knew it. Chiding him on his son was cruel. Everyone knew Haakon was soft and Odin shouldn’t have thrown it in Tyr’s face. He shouldn’t have argued with Frigga either… or with Thor. His temper was frayed from exhaustion… a few hours’ sleep would help. He yawned and settled more comfortably into the chair. A few more days and this war would be over and he could finally rest. His eyes closed and he drifted off.

******

Njord walked the sweeping verandas of Noatun, his children trailing his long swinging steps. His years sat lightly on him, though his hair was the translucent color of ice, too pale to be called white and fine as that of the Ljósálfar that Freyr nominally ruled. The cool sea wind plucked at his clothing and sent his cloak billowing. The twins were quiet, for they knew that Njord thought best when he was moving, as though he had to physically work his way through a problem. He shot questions back at them and Freya, for the most part answered. When he reached the end of the covered walkway he’d change directions and pace back the way they came. He finally came to a stop and placed his hands on the railing and looked out at the restless sea. 

His relationship with Jotunheim was complicated. Shortly after his first wife’s death and while the twins were still quite young, he’d traveled to the ice giant’s realm. Borr was fading, Odin was coming into his power and there were rumors of the Aesir prince’s warlike nature. It was only the most preliminary of diplomatic discussions. While there he’d met and fallen, or thought he’d fallen, in love with one of Laufey’s cousins. Skaldi was their name, a beautiful, fierce and sharply intelligent mage who had taken him on hunting and skiing expeditions during breaks from his meetings with Laufey. The contrast between wild Skaldi and his gentle sister-wife Nerthus was intriguing, and a balm to his mourning heart. Within a month they were married and returned together to Noatun. An alliance between their realms was assumed, and would be ratified when their respective councils ironed out the details. 

But their relationship began to fall apart shortly after their arrival in Vanaheim. Skaldi had no interest in being a mother to the twins and treated them with a cold reserve. The screams of sea gulls and the barking of seals disturbed them and the ever present taste and scent of the salt air was a constant source of annoyance. When the mild summer warmth became unbearable, Njord had taken them inland, to the high mountains in an unsuccessful effort to alleviate Skaldi’s homesickness. The dusty pockets of the prior winter’s snow was no match for the vast glaciers of their homeland. Skaldi’s distress became so great after four months that Njord agreed to spend the remainder of the year in Jötunheim. But once there he was confronted with the reality of the harsh winter, strange food and customs and a partner who spent their days roaming the tundra where he could not follow. He missed his children and his homeland terribly. The long nights and penetrating cold made him increasingly irritable and prone to angry outbursts. Finally in the darkest part of winter they’d had a horrendous public fight. The insults exchanged could not be overlooked. Njord returned home alone. The notification of divorce was short and brutal and ended any hope of an alliance.

Now he was confronted with the problem of Jötunheim again. In the first battle Vanaheim had been relatively neutral, with his daughter and son as hostage to their alliance, Njord sent tribute to Asgard in the form of supplies, but no soldiers. He’d agreed with Odin’s policy of stopping the Jötnar invasion of Midgard, but not with the vicious campaign to annihilate the entire race. As angry as he’d been at their failed marriage, he’d never wanted Skaldi or their people killed. He wondered for a moment if Skaldi still lived, still skied the vast glaciers that flowed from Jötunheim’s black mountains. He turned from the past and spoke to Freyr and Freya.

“Would you have me go to war against Asgard, Freya?” He paused and considered his daughter. “Or are you still called Frigga?”

“Freya, father. Odin lost the right to name me his wife when he put my remaining son in danger of his life.” She wrung her hands in agitation. “No, I would not bring our people to war, not if we can avoid that. I only want Thor safe and I know that Odin’s first care is for his kingdom. Will you help me recover my son from the Jötnar?”

Njord nodded. He could not turn down his daughter even if had his doubts about Thor. Freya had been devastated when Balder, who was still a child, was killed during a training exercise. Njord had seen how the boy took after his grandmother Nerthus, with his loving nature and calm temperament. He had been the quiet voice of reason to Thor’s more boisterous personality. Why Odin had insisted in trying to turn him into a warrior was a mystery to Njord. With time and study Balder would have become a mage to rival the most powerful of Vanir. Odin however, could see no value in anything that was not a weapon. It was only after his younger brother’s death that Thor had grown into a bullying, arrogant hot head.

“I sent the message that we would not support Asgard, should he go to war against Jötunheim. He has declined a reply.” 

He would do all in his power to recover Thor, if he was still alive and unharmed. Njord himself had felt the urge to remove his grandson’s boastful tongue on more than one occasion. Trusting to Jötnar honor? Before the war he would have sworn to it, but after all Odin had done, they had no reason for mercy. 

“Why, my daughter, do you believe that Thor yet lives?” It was a harsh question, but a necessary one. He had no intention of embroiling Vanaheim in a war of revenge.

“One, because Odin knows he is alive, though he conceals his source of information from me. Two, because Heimdall has seen a thunderstorm on Jötunheim, where one has not occurred in a thousand years. And three, because yesterday I wove a cloak for my son and the golden threads of his life are strong and unbroken, though entwined with an unfamiliar strand.”

“Could you see the outcome of this endeavor?” Njord asked. Freya sometimes had glimpses of the future. It was one of those that counseled Njord into accepting the alliance with Asgard in the past.

“No, for the strand that is entwined with his is heavy with magic and obscures the future. Whether it is for good or ill I cannot see, though I am inclined to believe it is the Jötunn sorcerer who sent his people into Asgard.”

“It makes sense that it would be so. They would have to be powerful indeed to interfere with your gift of prophecy and it would take a likewise empowered sorcerer to bypass Odin’s wards.”

“Not only that. I found traces of the Jötunn’s passage. They used one of my pathways between Asgard and Alfheim to scout the realm. The texture of seidr is the same.”

“Then it is time to plan our actions. All the resources of Vanaheim are at your disposal. Freyr, what can we count on from the Ljósálfar?”

“Little, father. I’ve no doubt that food stuffs and clothing, and likewise any tools that are not for war, they will gift us. if I request it. But you know that they consider war a childish endeavor and will not participate. I have no power over them, anymore then Odin did. Remember also, their gifts always come at a cost. I would rather we do not rely on them. The rest of the fey are even more difficult to work with.”

Njord sighed. He had hoped that after centuries of being the nominal king of Alfheim, Freyr had established a relationship with the Ljósálfar. It was impossible to know how they felt about having a king. When Odin had tried to invade Alfheim, the Ljósálfar had listened politely to his demands, allowed themselves to be taken hostage without resistance, and disappeared when the entire Aesir army fell into a nightmare filled sleep. When they awoke there was neither Ljósálfar nor their delicate cities to be found. All that was left was an endless forest filled with thickets of briars that ripped their clothing and clawed their skin, ground that was rotten with hidden sinkholes and boot stealing mud pits, and humid air thick with biting, stinging insects. Odin left without ever finding an enemy to engage, for even the forest was too damp to burn. 

Putting Freyr in charge of the place was more to remove him from Asgard and Freya’s side, then to do any actual ruling. That the Ljósálfar had provided him a castle and servants and all things needed the by a king, Odin took as a sign of their surrender. Njord had a feeling they simply found the idea of a ruler amusing.

Njord took his children inside to plan out their rescue of his grandson. It was good that they were together again. He would ensure that his family would not be separated again, no matter the cost.

******

The inn was deserted when Loki and Thor came downstairs. If Skarpr had overheard their fight he hadn’t seen a reason to make note of it. Instead that were two packs filled with food and basic supplies and a short letter telling Loki the section to which he and Dallr were assigned. They stepped outside. Loki looked up. The bright light was already fading as the heavy clouds reclaimed the sky, the patches of blue shrinking into tiny gaps before disappearing altogether. 

Loki sighed. To have seen such a thing, only to have it taken away was almost harder than to have never seen it at all. There was so much power in Thor. Even hampered by the torc he’d unintentionally brought a bit of spring to Jötunheim. If their power were combined, would they even need the Casket of Winters? Loki turned his gaze from the greying sky to the city below. He would never know now. Thor hated him and undoubtedly wanted only to return home and forget his very existence. He wished he could do the same. 

“Odinson, tell me true.” Loki said. “Were I to return you to your father would he strike not against us? Is it possible that you could persuade him to return the Casket of Winters to my people?” 

Thor followed Loki’s gaze and watched the hurrying Jötnar as they filled the streets, on their way into the darkness of the cavern’s depths. Thor was quiet for longer than Loki liked, and he took a breath to interrupt Thor’s thoughts, when Thor answered.

“As much I as wish I could promise you that, Loki. I cannot. All I can promise, is that if I become king, I will see that it is returned to Jötunheim.”

“How many years will that be? How many more will die as we wait on a chance?' Loki slammed his hands on the guard railing in agitation. "If I were to turn myself over to Asgard’s justice, for my attack against your realm, would he then give it back? Could you not tell him what he has condemned my people to if they are forced to remain without the heart of our land?”

“You would find no justice in Asgard. Only a cruel death. My father hates the Jötnar as do all the Aesir. He has never forgiven your people for his mother’s kidnapping and death. Nor has he forgiven Laufey’s attack on Midgard. I doubt he would do anything to allievate their suffering, no matter my pleas.”

“Our kidnapping? It was his father, Borr who held Bestla captive. Mimir and his brothers came to free him.”

“Her.” Thor corrected automatically. “Why would my Grandmother wish to leave her family? Even if she had, why would she call on Frost Giants for help? Your story makes no sense.”

Loki turned to Thor and shook his head. “Bestla called on Mimir, because Mimir was his brother. Do you not know your grandparent was a Jötunn? He was brother to my great grandfather.”

“That is a lie!" Thor snarled. "I’ve seen paintings of her. She was an Aesir lady and no damned Jötunn!” Thor turned away. “I thought we were agreed to speak truth to each other.”

“So Jötnar are fine people in the abstract.” said Loki. “But it angers you to know you share our filthy blood.” His voice rose in pitch but also became softer though there was a cold rage in the quite tones.

“Why do you persist in this tale?” Thor turned back, his fist clenched. He checked his movement and his eyes widened.

Loki watched him with narrowed eyes, his chin lifted. No not his, her chin. Still tall and slim, but now Loki’s skin was as pale and smooth as milk, the lips pink and full, the shape of jaw and cheek softened, shoulders narrowed and hips widened and small breasts pressed against her shirt.

“Bestla was a shapeshifter, as am I. Borr gave him the torc as a wedding present, so it would be easier to hold Aesir form in Asgard’s horrid climate. The hidden spells were crafted to bind a Jötunn, Thor. Were you Aesir or Vanir alone, it would not have worked.”

Thor grabbed Loki’s arm. “This is only another of your illusions!” He cried.

But the spell did not ripple under his touch as the illusion Thor wore did, and Loki’s arm was as slender and smooth as it looked and not the lean muscular shape of his Jötunn form. Thor remembered those portraits, and how his grandmother wore a neck band identical to the one still clasped around his neck. He let go of Loki’s arm and raised his hand to the torc. Runes circled from terminal to terminal. All speak didn’t translate these ancient symbols, for they had many meanings and were most often employed for magic or divination. But they could be used as letters. Thor traced the engraving for the first time with a fingertip.

“Bestla Bölþornsson, Beloved of Borr” were the revealed words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was a kick in the head for Thor.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor thinks things over. Loki prepares for war.

Thor sat on the floor, his back against the wall in the semi darkness. His eyes were not as keen the Jötnar’s in the low light and had a small glowing lamp was affixed to his belt to assist his vision. Across the cavern a few other scattered lights twinkled, letting him know he was not the only one with dark blindness. On Asgard his night vision was seen as unusually keen, and his ability to stand the coldest temperatures of Asgard’s winters, while others shivered inside their heavy coats, only one more mark of his superiority. He’d always assumed it was because of his royal birth. He'd believed was physically stronger, tougher, and slightly larger than the average Aesir because he was born to rule them. 

Only now he was in a cavern full of people stronger, tougher and larger than himself. Was every trait he’d prided himself on only because he shared their blood? Why had Odin lied to him? Why did he hate his own mother’s people so? Thor wanted to confront his father with the truth, but he was afraid Odin would only react with accusations of disloyalty. He picked up a pebble and flicked it into a crack in the floor, listening to the echo as it bounced off the sides. 

Always Odin had pushed him to excel. His father had praised him when he succeeded, but the bar was always set higher with every achievement. Odin’s heavy sigh, and the way he’d turn away when Thor had not lived up to expectations, spurred him to greater effort. His rage when Thor dared to question his greater wisdom was no less frightening as an adult as it had been when he was a child. He’d always assumed his father’s actions were aimed at making him a better man, a better king. Now he wondered how much of it was to bind him to his father’s will. To make him an unquestioning copy of Odin. It was his mother’s gentle conversations that taught him to think, to consider both sides of an argument. She encouraged him to question his assumptions unlike his father, who laid down the rules and saw any questions as challenging his authority.

Thor threw another pebble into the crack. He hated this inactivity. Yet he could see why Loki asked him to stay with the refugees. He was too valuable a bargaining chip to be put within Odin’s reach. Loki had moved him below so he would not be in a situation where he had to choose between his own people or the Jötnar. He had agreed to assist tending the old, the weak, the sick, and in time, the wounded. Thor sighed. He was not cut out to be a nursemaid and his ignorance of their medicine meant he did nothing but help in the most basic and often disagreeable of tasks. If a week ago someone would have told him he’d be emptying bedpans for infirm Jötnar he would have punched their teeth down their throat for the insult. Now… he hated the task, but admired the ones who suffered such indignities with a quite gratitude for his help. Except that one old bastard, who cursed him and his own children with a language so vial he wondered that their ears didn’t burn off. One if his sons spoke to Thor afterward and assured him the Jotun didn’t mean his insults. His mind had become twisted with old age and his true nature lost. Thor wondered if he would be so loving if Odin subjected him to such verbal abuse. He doubted it.

Thor got up and paced along the wall, not wandering into the middle of the cavern lest he become disoriented. It had been embarrassing to find he had no sense of direction underground, and with his poor vision it was easy to get lost. He walked toward the passage that led up to the city, meaning to have a word with the guards to see if there was any news, when he felt a familiar plucking at his nerves. 

Mjölnir. Their link was renewed. The joy of that connection made him forget all else and Thor called her and felt her response. She was his again and rushing to his hand.

*****

Loki surveyed the tunnel that lead to Torsborg. It was smooth and empty, layered with thick dust unmarked by footprints. The view of the town behind showed broken and abandoned ruins. He had little hope his illusions would turn the Aesir away, but it might make them less cautious. He’d warned the soldiers hiding in ambush not to rely on the magic camouflage, and to keep silent and hidden until the foreign army either attacked or was inside their trap. Loki tried to not think of Thor, or how many of the men lead by Odin were his shield brothers. He’d done the best he could to prepare for the attack, now it was a matter of waiting. Loki hoped his messengers had gotten through. He needed his father’s support, needed the rest of their army to even have a hope of standing off the might of Asgard. As for Odin, it was one thing to study his magic and protective runes for years and find ways to slip past them and into Asgard, to open a way for a handful of Jötnar, or to hide himself from the Allfather’s view. It was something else entirely to face him in battle. Loki’s magic was subtle, relying on carefully woven spells, with misdirection as a specialty, while Odin was renowned for his combat magic. 

The minuets seemed like hours and the hours like days. The soldiers were stoic, Jötnar could comfortably withstand inactivity for days, an adaptation to living in close quarters during winter. But Loki couldn’t shut down his circling thoughts as he replayed scenario after scenario in his mind. Had he done the right thing in sending Thor below? Was Thor correct in believing Odin wouldn’t withdraw if his son was returned? Were the tunnel diggers going to have enough time to reopen the neglected escape route and get the noncombatants away? Of all the things they had to deal with over the years, they had never considered that the Aesir would be able to attack them on their home ground again. If only the temperature would drop again and drive the invaders back to Asgard. But Thor had been unable to bring back the protective cold around Torsborg, though he had tried. His power was that of spring and summer, the warm fronts that built thunderstorms, not the biting artic blast of winter. Loki bit his lip. It would almost be a relief to feel the signature surge of the Bifrost.

But it wasn’t the power of the rainbow bridge that jerked his head up, and pulled him from his anxious ruminations, it was a subtler magic, gentle as a whisper at the edge of sleep. Had he not been so keyed up for the slightest touch of alien magic, he would have never noticed. Loki’s heart was in his throat, the magic wasn’t in front of him, outside the barriers which kept the Aesir from opening the Bifrost into the heart of Torsborg. It was behind and below him, in the lower caverns, where the most defenseless of his people took refuge. For a heartbeat he hesitated, this could be a feint, to draw him from the battlefield. The thought of what an unopposed sorcerer, especially one who could slip past his ward, could do among the civilians, sent him into action.

“Hold the tunnel, no matter the cost.” Loki yelled to his war leader as he raced toward the refugees. 

The soldiers would be hard pressed to hold Odin’s army back unaided for long, but the civilians could not fend off a mage at all. Even then he knew he was too late, for another magic was crashing through his magical fortifications, a power he was all too familiar with, having sent it hurtling into the void once before. Mjölnir was returning to her master and laying bare his people’s location in her journey. He followed in her path, using his seidr to send him half flying down the deserted corridors, praying he could get to the lower caverns before the carnage started. Praying he hadn’t misjudged Thor again. Praying Thor would not be revealed to the Jötnar before he could reach his side. Begging the Norns for a miracle. He screamed in frustration when he felt the rumble of the Bifrost opening overhead, the searing power of it as it was held open long enough to discharge its deadly cargo of Einherjaren onto Jötunheim’s soil.

******

Tyr stood at the center of the first warriors to stand on Jötunheim in over a thousand years. The ground was a swampy muddy slush and the wind cold, biting through his furs. He’d hoped to never see this frozen waste again and its desolate, barren appearance sapped at his resolve and made him feel his many years. He had thought Jötunheim a harsh land during their last war, but this was beyond harsh. Nothing but ice and rock and a half flooded plain stretched before his eyes. Nowhere was even the slightest evidence of life. No touch of green shoots or winter barren brush. No bird graced the sky nor beast the earth, nor did the buzz of an insect break the terrible lifelessness. The blowing wind and the sucking footsteps of his own men were the only sounds.

“How could anything survive here?” Tyr wondered. 

He formed his men into ranks and positioned them outside the runes now baked into the mud. More Aesir were coming and with them their King. Until Odin arrived he could only provide a guard around the landing site. There was no waiting Jötnar army to be confronted and nothing that looked like a dwelling place. Try wondered how many of the creatures remained in this dead land.

******

Loki’s feet blurred over the stone floor and he raced between the cavern guards so fast that the wind of his passing caused their cloaks to billow and snap, by the time they raised their weapons he was already around the turn and speeding toward the tableau on the edge of the cave. He heard the guards' rushing footsteps clattering in his wake. He slowed as he came closer. There was a golden dome that separated three figures from the Jötnar. Some of the refugees were drawing back from trio and others, clutching makeshift weapons with pushing their way forward. As of yet Loki could spot no casualties and though the people were worried and frightened, they were not panicked. Loki parted the crowd with a touch of seidr, sending those is his path stumbling to either side. Only now could he clearly see the three. 

Thor stood in the middle of the group, no longer disguised in Loki’s illusion or Sleipnir’s discarded clothing. Instead he was tall and proud and breathtakingly beautiful in shining armor, his hammer clutched in one hand while his other was raised, gesturing to accompany his impassioned speech. Loki could not hear his words for they were blocked by the golden magic. Two others stood before Thor, almost as eye catching as he, an older man and woman. They were known to Loki from paintings and statues but never had he seen them face to face. Frigga and Freyr stood side by side mirroring each other’s posture, the same look of attentive questioning on their features as they listened to Thor. Threads of their combined magic were woven together into the impermeable barrier. As Loki approached, Thor spotted him, and beckoned him closer. Loki’s hands were ringed with his magic and he barked orders to his people. 

“Everyone get to the escape tunnels. Get them open now.” When the advancing Jötnar remained in place he screamed at them. “Run you damn fools! I won’t be able to hold them off for long!”

“Nay my prince.” said an old Jötunn, holding a bone walking stick in his arthritic hands. “You shall not face our adversaries alone.”

The golden light changed to a silver glow. 

Loki looked at the townsfolk, the old and the untrained and the weak and he damned them for their pointless bravery. He turned back to Thor and held up his hands in a plea. 

“Thor, I beg you,” Loki cried. “Do these idiots no harm. They are not your enemies.”

Thor’s deep voice boomed out.

“Nor am I, nor my mother, nor my uncle theirs. Tell your people to stand down Loki, for we must speak together as allies."

“Your father’s army is even now standing above our heads. Why should I believe they no longer support him?”

“Because I do. And you believe in me.”

Loki met that open blue gaze. He was terrified to trust Thor. The stakes were too high. How many would die if he made the wrong decision? He glanced to Freyr. The Vanyr stood uneasy at his sister’s side, his wary eyes darting around the cavern, assessing the assembled Jötnar. Neither openly hostile nor friendly. Loki looked to Frigga and saw only compassion for his ordeal. She was so like her son it made Loki’s heart ache. Her hair a lighter shade of gold, her skin a softer tan, but her eyes were the same brilliant sapphire as Thor’s. 

“We would stop this war if we could your Highness.” she said in a clear voice. “For both our realms sake, will you not allow us to try? I give you my word that we shall not strike against your people.”

“I...” Loki stopped. Against their combined power he would only be able to stand for a few minutes, not enough time to get the townsfolk to safety. But if they were on his side, oh Norns if they were on his side then maybe they could hold off Odin’s army long enough for help to arrive. He turned to the circled Jötnar.

“Return to your families. Gather your things and move closer to the exit tunnels. I would talk with these and hear their proposal. Make no attack against them without provocation.”

The encircling Jötnar hesitated, then stepped back widening the circle around the dome. Their make shift weapons were lowed but not released. Loki understood this was as much cooperation as they were willing to give. He lowered his hands and stepped toward the dome, which unraveled in a shimmer of dancing light. 

“Speak and be swift, for even if you mean no harm, your kinsfolk are at the gate to this city and mean to flood the streets with my people’s blood. I have no time to spare in fancy speech or pleasantries.” 

“Then by all means let as proceed to the surface as we talk.” said Thor stepping forward and clasping Loki’s arm in greeting. “For not even one life, Aesir or Jötnar should be lost to Odin’s misplaced rage.” 

Loki returned the grip and was startled to be pulled into Thor’s forehead touching embrace, the man’s free hand hot on the back of his neck.

“I have not yet forgiven you, cousin, but I would like there to be time, for you to make your amends.”

Loki’s heart leapt at Thor's words, and he replied.

“I very much look forward to meeting your demands.” 

Thor’s gruff laugh as they broke apart, brought a fleeting smile to Loki’s worried face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many things are coming together now.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting of armies. Trickery and honesty. Two loves in conflict.

Laufey held his beast to a steady walk, the big boar grunted and pulled against the reins, irritated by the soft ground under its hooves and the strange scents blowing toward them on the swirling wind. Laufey could now hear the distant neigh of horses and the occasional sharp voice of an Aesir, though he could not see them through the falling snow. Snow was rare in the dry cold of Jötunheim, yet it had fallen twice in the time since Thor’s capture. From Loki’s message, Laufey knew this fortuitous storm was the result of the Odinson’s weather manipulation, though he doubted Thor had intended to shield his father’s enemies. Helblindi had been instrumental in cloaking their approach as he urged more of the fat wet flakes from the heavy laden clouds. Helblindi, though not the sorcerer Loki was, had better control of his limited seidr and a sensitivity to the environment his brother lacked. The Aesir would not know of their approach until they were ready to launch their counterattack.

The boar snorted, shook its heavy head, restless at being held to the pace of the marching Jötnar. Larger than the riding animals, sporting much wider tusks and ferocious of disposition the warboar were of Býleistr’s breeding. There were only a handful of them, for the cost of feeding such animals was high. Býleistr had never doubted Odin would one day return, and he was the one who had insisted they maintain and drill their army, despite their reduced resources. The hate he carried in his heart against the Aesir had never faded, only frozen into a cold resolve to avenge his bearer and destroy those who so wronged his world. When word came of the potential attack against Torsborg, Býleistr had laughed so malevolently at his chance for revenge, it had taken Laufey aback.

While Laufey had no love for the Aesir, he knew the cost of war. Jötunheim had declined in the last thousand years, while Asgard grew strong with her conquests and tributes. Without the Casket of Winters they would be hard pressed to hold the Aesir off, much less defeat them. Laufey pressed forward with grim determination, spreading his army in a wide arc for the initial charge. Their best hope was for a swift attack from ambush to break the Aesir ranks and scatter them. One on one the Jötnar were stronger, but today they would not be fighting one on one, but three or four or more to one. Also the Aesir had energy weapons while the Jötnar had to rely on their ice magic. Laufey moved to the center of the arc and waited for his sons’ signals that they were in place.

******

There was no need for Loki to retrace his steps, not with three of the most powerful sorcerers in the nine realms working together. However such a passage could be used two ways and Loki had no intention of putting the civilians at risk. They conferred as they hurried to the upper level. Thor’s sharp gasp at the sight of the ruined town caused Loki to pause, and reassure him that the view was false. Freyr and Frigga looked on the depth of Loki’s illusions quietly reassessing the Jötunn sorcerer’s strength. Loki didn’t enlighten them it was Thor’s stolen power that had fueled the spell. His trust did not extend to that level and it was better to have their respect to stave off a last minute change of heart. 

Freyr was the powerhouse in battle magic and he would use it to ensure they were able to secure the most vital part of their plan, while Frigga’s skills lay in foresight and, like Loki, illusion. They were willing to hold off Asgard’s army, though they would not return the attack. Nor would Thor raise his hammer against his own people. Their first move would be to appeal to Odin, by showing a united front. Loki didn’t like it, he didn’t like the open confrontation against superior numbers. The last time the Freyr and Frigga had faced Odin he had won, and they were not holding back then. This time… Loki bit his lip… he hoped he wasn’t selling his own life for nothing. 

They stopped at the top of the passage way to the lower levels, where Loki briefed the commanders. He didn’t want a rescue attempt, the soldiers’ job was to guard the townspeople.They would stay in hiding close to the gates of the town and wait for any intruding Aesir.

Freyr, Frigga, Thor and Loki, covered by illusion, slipped out into the cold wind and lightly falling snow. Loki stopped dead his heart felt as if it had dropped into his stomach. The plain before him was covered in Aesir, rank upon rank of them lined up in neat squares, on the bare muddy ground, their commanders mounted on restless horses, their golden armor and weapons glinting in the dull light. The Bifrost was flashing overhead as more were deposited onto Jötunheim’s soil every minute. Odin was in the very center of his army, on a small rise, astride a huge grey horse, Gungnir glowing like a star in the gloom. This was no incursion to retrieve his son, no punitive attack for Loki’s intrusion into Asgard. This was a war to end them. They already outnumbered the tiny force defending Torsborg twenty to one and they kept on coming. Loki took a deep breath and strode forward with the three outlanders trailing him. 

It was Thor’s voice that first rang out over the sound of the cold wind, loud as a thunderclap.

“Father!” he boomed. Loki knew it was Freyr’s magic that made the thunder god’s voice carry over the battlefield. “This war is unfounded. These people have done us no harm. Take our people back to Asgard and let no one die this day.”

“No harm?” Odin shouted wheeling his horse around to face them. “These animals violated our home. They threaten our very existence. By what sorcery have they turned you against you own kind? ”

“They are my kind, and yours also if you would see the truth. Your own mother was..”

The blaze of light that speared out toward Thor was blinding. Loki jumped in front of Thor, his hands raised and not one but three shields sprang up before him, green, gold and silver light turning the attack into a harmless shower of sparks.

“Now you finally show yourself, you stunted Jötunn brute.” Odin snarled. “Only after you have corrupted my son with your lies, do you slink out of his shadow. Your deceiving spells will not save you or the rest of the vermin.”

“Odin.” Frigga said and again her voice carried across the field, clear and strong. “Call off this war. There is no need for good men to die for your injured pride. Withdraw now and I will return to your side. If you continue this fight you will set all the realms into war.”

“Did you believe I will come to heel like a whipped dog to win the favor of my faithless wife and her traitorous brother? Do you think any of the worlds will truly care about the deaths of a few filthy Jötnar? They will be glad to see the nine made a cleaner place.”

“Allfather.” Loki’s voice was a whisper that swirled with the wind, yet touched each ear. “I would give my life over to your justice, if you give your word to leave this world. Let my death assuage your anger. Do not make my people pay for my actions. Have they not suffered enough at your hands?”

“They will not suffer enough until every last one is dead.” Odin slammed his spear into the ground and a wave of light rippled out in concentric circles. “Only then will they repay the wrong they did to me.”

The white light became a fire as it passed beyond the ranked Aesir. The burning wave hit the triple woven shield and again it was dissipated. Loki caught the subtle flare of magic as the back edge of the fire ring vanished into the heavier snow of the advancing storm. His heart leapt. He knew the touch of Helblindi’s magic as he knew his own. Loki strove to keep Odin’s attention on himself.

“What wrong?” Loki said as he paced in front of his allies. “What wrong is so great that you would destroy your own family?” he gestured toward Thor and Frigga. “What wrong so unforgivable that you would squander your soldiers’ lives?” Loki spread his hands toward the massed army. He noted that the Bifrost had not flashed since Thor’s speech and hoped against hope.  
“What so terrible a wrong that it must be righted with innocent blood? What wrong have we done you, Odin?”

“Your wrong? You defy me by your very existence. By your refusal to admit you are finished. The Jötnar should have died out a thousand years ago, yet you scuttle like roaches in the ruins of your dead realm. You sorcerer, you sow treachery and lies with every word that leaves your mouth. You kind corrupt all you touch. You are ugliness and evil and the vilest of creatures that crawl on this forsaken wasteland of a world.”

“So you would kill us because we wish to live? Because we will not give tongue to your false past? Or is it because we are not Aesir? Neither are you cousin. Deny all you wish, but you carry our blood in your veins and our deaths will not eradicate it.” 

Loki prayed he was buying enough time. Thor’s grip was steady on his shoulder and he took strength from his touch. He covered Thor’s had with his own slender fingers. 

“I am no kinsman to filth.” Odin roared, and again Gungnir flashed out again but this time it went through the sorcerer, and the ground behind him exploded into flying earth and snow melt.

The place they had stood was a blasted, smoking hole, but of the four who challenged the Aesir ruler, there was no sign. Odin roared his rage and held the spear aloft, hunting for his enemies. Gungnir flared like a sun and sent a burning surge of raw magic over the field. The sheer power of it knocked Loki to his knees and revealed his and Thor’s true position. Even worse, it shredded the wards that protected the entrance to Torsborg, leaving it plain to view. Odin kicked his horse forward and at his command the entire army of Asgard poured toward the low opening. The noise of their battle cry near deafened Loki and the ground shook under their pounding charge. 

Loki surged to his feet, pulled his remaining seidr to his hands and prepared to take his enemies with him to hel.

The Bifrost opened again, but instead of another battalion descending, the front rank of soldiers disappeared into its rainbow glow. Loki smiled grimly. Frigga and Freyr had done it. They’d either overwhelmed Heimdall or convinced him to help. If he could hold the tunnel long enough, Asgard’s army would be scattered over the wilderness of Alfheim and Vanaheim. The next rank checked their advancement, but at Odin’s shout they rushed forward again. The Aesir soldiers passed the rune marked ground and their lowered weapons glowed with power. A few men fired at Loki uselessly before they were in range.

“Get out of here.” Loki yelled to Thor, who against the agreed plan had not fled the battlefield. 

Unwilling to fight his own people, Thor was now only an encumbrance and Loki could not split his focus to protect him. Thor’s hand fell heavy on his shoulder.

“Never.” was his short reply, and Loki once again felt the searing burn of Thor’s energy on is skin. 

For a moment he thought himself betrayed and then Thor’s poured into him, untainted with anger or weakened with resistance. Loki laughed wildly as lightning cracked across the sky.

“Hold them back,” Thor growled “and I will stand with you."

Loki lowered his hands and his magic poured downward. Ice raced across the ground in a translucent wave. Impossibly smooth, it offered no purchase to hard leather soles or steel shod hooves and the charge broke as the warriors lost their footing and fell in a tangled mess of flailing limbs and thrashing horses.

The Bifrost opened again and the ranked men surrounding Odin were gone, but their King rode forward untouched, a golden glow surrounding him. Again he raised Gungnir and the ice sheet exploded in a blaze of light. Loki was hard pressed to shield himself and Thor from the flying shards. The downed soldiers were not so lucky and the screams of men and horses added to the din. Odin raised his empty hand and chanted, yet whatever his intent, it had no effect, other than to cause Thor’s fingers to dig harder into Loki’s shoulder. 

Thor raised Mjölnir over his head and lightning speared down to form a crackling wall in front of the warriors who swarmed over their fallen comrades. They slowed only for a moment and then Odin’s power burst the sparking lightning asunder. The Bifrost was too slow, Loki knew, for it had to both pull the Aesir from the field and then drop them into another realm. Once the Aesir made it inside the tunnel they would be out of its reach, as the earth acted as a barrier to the guiding sight needed to direct it. He had to hold them here. 

“Can you collapse the tunnel entrance?” Loki called.

“I can but try, though it will leave us no retreat.” Thor answered. 

“Then do it, my love, for there is no hope for the townsfolk otherwise.”

Thor looked at Loki wide eyed and then spun his hammer into a blurring circle and threw it and himself into the blackening sky.

With Thor gone, Loki met the blasts of the advancing Aesir with bursts of his own coiled seidr, holding nothing back. A multitude of sorcerers struck at the surging army and were cut down one by one as Odin rained fire down on Loki’s duplicates. He felt as much as heard the slam of Mjölnir as it struck the ground and the air burned with ozone as the heavens answered her call. Then the earth rumbled again and the high pitched squeals of the warboar and the low roar of the Jötnar battle chant overrode the noise of Odin’s army. There was another thunder to echo the skies as the last two of Laufey’s whale hunting beasts trampled into the massed ranks of Aesir the Jötnar in their wake, driving the Aesir army apart.

Loki’s blood was aflame as his people fought and killed and died. The rage he had kept at bay for years was loosed and his knives blurred as he danced in a whirl of steel and magic. His ears were filled with the screams of those who bled and fell under his attack. His arms where sticky with blood and the stench of spilled viscera was splashed on his skin. There was no mercy in him, for these had struck at his home, at his people, and at his beloved. It was only now as he fought with his back to death’s door did he admit to himself that his heart was Thor’s. If it meant he had to carve the heart from every living Aesir to protect him then Loki would do so.

He shook sweat his eyes and bared his teeth in a feral snarl as he struck fast as any viper and twice as deadly. His ensorcered knife ripped through golden armor like it was rotted cloth. A Jötunn warrior grinned his thanks and drove aside the sword of an Aesir that would have taken off Loki’s head. They fought back to back until the tide of battle parted them and the taller Jötunn was borne away in a mass of struggling fighters.

Loki staggered as a fiery strike slammed into his arm and side, snapping bone and driving bits of the shattered armor into his ribs. He was thrown him onto his back from the impact, one of his knives spinning from his numbing hand. He coughed tasting blood, and threw up a shield only to have it splinter under another attack. Then the sky was blocked by a rearing form and Loki rolled to one side as steel shod hooves slashed down, narrowly missing him. Another blast struck the earth where he had lain a second before, cracking his helmet, scorching his face, and half blinding him. 

He scrambled and rolled trying to get to his feet and was knocked down again and again by the heavy body of the warhorse or a booted kick to his head. Odin’s mocking laughter rang in his ears. He struck out blindly at the horse with his sole remaining knife and was rewarded with a shrill scream and a lashing hind hoof that caught him in the chest and launched him twice his length to land hard on the half frozen mud churned ground. Loki lay stunned, head reeling as Odin raised Gungnir for the final killing blow. He heard Thor’s anguished cry, too far away to save him. Loki saw the burning tip of the spear and tried to build one last shield but his seidr wouldn’t answer his pain muddled call. He met Odin’s hate filled eyes, and Loki grinned at his destroyer, defiant to his last breath. 

"You have failed as both king and father and your son's sons will curse your name."

The spear flamed bright and a black shadow passed across Loki’s blurred vision. The spear was gone, the horse was gone and Odin was gone. For a confused second Loki wondered, if this was death. But the battle still raged around him. The scream of the stallion was met by the raging squeal of a warboar. Loki blinked his eyes clear to see Býleistr, one hand around the shaft of Gungnir and the other fisted against the Aesir king’s chest. Odin was suspended in the air gripping the spear, his mouth open in shock as his horse went to its knees, its entrails covering the warboar’s tusks. Býleistr pulled his fist back and a blood coated ice blade was withdrawn from Aesir’s dimming armor. Odin slumped and fell onto the body of his dying horse, his hands still clutching the spear, his clutching fingers only releasing as his eyes glazed over in death. 

It was Thor’s enraged roar that gave Loki the strength to struggle to his feet. He staggered between his battle mad brother and his grief stricken love. 

“Thor don’t! Bly stop!” Loki pleaded swaying on his feet. That both looked to him in concern was all that kept them from each other’s throat.

“Loki!” They cried in unison. Bly swung off his beast to reach for him and Thor hurried to do the same. Both raised their weapons and Loki could see Gungnir glowing in Býleistr's hand and hear Mjölnir’s angry growl. 

“Thor,” Loki said. “He is my brother. End this battle now. Call off the Aesir. Bly, please hold back. No more need die.” 

“They should all die." Býleistr snarled. "Not an Aesir should be left to draw breath.”

“Would you take his place, brother? And having killed Odin become him? Will that be your legacy?” Loki panted.

“You would have me forgive them? Forgive all they have cost us? Can you forgive what Odin's curse did to your son?”

“Yes.” Loki sighed and he fell forward. 

There was the sound of two heavy weapons hitting the blood soaked ground, then hands caught him, warm and cool together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So falls the King of Asgard. Long live the King.  
> I kept to Frigga for Thor's mother's name in this chapter to prevent any confusion. I will however use Freya when her father or brother speaks to her.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the battle. A meeting of princes.

A sharp pain in his arm woke Loki from a heavy sleep. He rolled onto his back and the pain receded to a dull throb. His head felt as if it were filled with wool, his thoughts slow and plodding. The warm yellow light of a whale oil lamp filled the room with soft edged shadows. He was home, in his chambers. His scrolls were lined up neatly on their shelves. A parchment map showing the halls of Asgard’s castle was pinned to the wall, the rooms and passages lined out and redrawn as he’d gathered better intelligence reports. A much loved and battered stuffed toy, which might have once resembled a musk ox, lay on his desk, a testament to Sleipnir's visit. His left arm was strapped to his chest and he realized he could only see out of one eye. 

Loki raised his hand to his head and found it wrapped in bandages, one side of which covered his left eye. He explored the injury with his fingertips trying to feel for damage under the heavy padding, his heart beating rapidly. A large hand caught his and Helblindi said,

“Loki, don’t poke it, poke at it. Your eye has to, to heal. So don’t, don’t touch it.”

Loki’s thoughts sharpened. Helblindi only repeated words when he was upset. 

“The war? What happened? Is it over?”

“It’s over, it’s over. Oh, Loki.” 

Helblindi’s voice was rough with emotion. Loki tried to turn his head to bring his brother in view and hissed at the pain that raced down his neck and back.

“Lie still you’re not, not supposed to move.”

“Then come around to where I can see you, you idiot!” Loki snapped.

Helblindi’s large form blocked the lamp and he moved around the bed dragging his chair. He reseated himself and Loki waited while his eye adjusted to his brother’s back lit form. Helblindi looked a little battered, there were some bruises on his face and bandages on both his forearms. Two of his fingers were also splinted. But what caught Loki’s attention were his eyes, pink rimmed from crying. The nictitating membrane was retracted in the low light and the revealed whites were almost as red as when his eyes were shielded. Even as he watched, more tears welled up and spilled down Helblindi’s handsome craggy face.

“Hel, what is wrong?”

“Loki, Oh Loki, our parent is dead.” Helblindi cried and he reached for Loki’s hand.

“No.” Loki whispered. “He can’t be. We won. Bly killed Odin. Mapa cannot be dead.”

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

Loki didn’t even yelp when Helblindi gathered him against his chest and held him as he sobbed out his grief.

******

Thor paced the cell. As cells went it was comfortable. Two oil lamps gave light, there was a chair sized for him and the bed was raised off the stone floor with a thick mattress and blankets which provided a warm night’s sleep. There was a small chamber to one side with a toilet and shower (though the water was cold). He’d been given decent food, and fresh clothing and his jailers had been polite, though reserved. They had even provided him writing materials and the promise to deliver any letters. He hadn’t taken them up on the offer. Nor had he questioned his guards after the first day as it seemed they knew no more than he about his situation, and were wary of giving him any information.

His grief over his father’s death was overpowering and complicated and he would not bare his heart in front of his jailers, no matter how civil they were. So he burned his distress in action and strode from one end of the large cell to the other. 

When he had dropped Mjölnir to catch Loki, he’d come nose to nose with the Jötunn who’d just killed his father. It was only Loki’s plea that this was his brother, which stayed Thor’s hand. Býleistr recovered first and let go of Loki to grasp Gungnir once again and wield it against those Aesir who would avenge Odin.

It seemed the spear did not require ‘the rightful king’, to be the rightful ruler of Asgard. But the Jötunn had held back, a monumental task of self-control, seeing the rage which twisted his face, and though the Einherjar had fallen in a wide circle around them they were stunned, not killed. Býleistr ordered the Jötnar to him and Tyr summoned the Aesir and the two forces drew apart. The Bifrost remained closed until Tyr called for it and the army of Aesir began to pull out without a formal declaration of victory on either side. All the while Thor had stood by the side of a Jötunn who plainly wanted him dead, holding the unconscious, bleeding body, of the one who loved them both. 

Another of Loki’s brothers, for he wore Loki's features, though on a larger and rougher scale, brought a healer who applied basic field medicine and had Loki carried off. Helblindi was his name, and he called Thor, Prince, and asked him for his promise to leave Mjölnir and go quietly into captivity once more. Thor had complied. The thought of revenge for Odin’s death left a bitter taste in his mouth. He walked with his guards across the bloodied plain, seeing both Aesir and Jötnar retrieve their dead and wounded and he was sickened by the pointless carnage. 

Thor wondered what had happened to his mother and uncle. Had they made their escape into Vanaheim? Where they held as he was? He could not think of them suffering harm. Surly no citizen of Asgard could raise a weapon against their beloved Queen. 

Thor’s days in the cell had stretched into a full week and still he heard no news. He was considering calling for his hammer and smashing his way out, if only because of frustration, when the guards outside his cell abandoned their stations and disappeared down corridor. He heard the hall door open and close and a single set of footsteps returning. A dark familiar outline approached the cell and Loki’s hand touched the ensorcered ice that made up one wall. 

“Are you well?” Loki asked softly.

“I should ask that of you.” Thor replied.

For the sorcerer had burns over one side of his face that marred the perfection of his beauty, and a patch covered one eye. His once luxuriant hair had been shore to his scalp and raised lines where the skin had been patched together shone pale against the black stubble. His arm was carried in a sling, and held tight by a splint of polished bone and wrapped cloth. Loki also bore a new air of somberness.

“I will mend in time. The healers have assured me there is a good chance I will regain the use of my eye. You have been well treated?”

“Other than being bored and kept without word of what is happening, I have been treated with more courtesy then you would receive in Asgard.”

Loki winced at his words. “I hope that is not entirely true. Or if it is we can change it. May I enter?”

“Yes.” Thor’s answer was curt, though not from anger, he wondered if Loki truly meant what he’d said, before he sent Thor to collapse the tunnel.

The door opened and Loki stepped inside, pausing to press his fingers to the ice wall which darkened at his touch. At Thor’s questioning glance he said.

“I wish us to have privacy. As to your ignorance that I can rectify.”

He walked over to Thor’s bed and sat heavily on the end. Thor pulled up the one chair and sat down facing him. Loki drew a deep breath before beginning.

“You will be glad to know that Frigga and Freyr are safe in Vanaheim. Njord holds those Einherjar they transported there hostage for the moment. Alfheim is sealed from all realms, not even the Bifrost can reach it and the fate of those dropped there is unknown. There is tension in all the realms, and war is crouched like a thunderbeast at an ice hole, waiting for the first breath of conflict to spring.”

Loki ran his hand over the blanket and plucked at a loose thread. Thor reined in the desire to snatch it up and hold it between his broad hands like a shivering bird.

“I thank you for word of my mother and uncle. Loki, is there naught we can do to prevent this disaster?”

Loki nodded and continued.

“Laufey, my bearer…” Loki paused again and drew another steadying breath. “was killed in the battle. I saw him go into the sea this morning. So many of my people joined him.”

This time Thor did grasp Loki’s hand and hold it. It was cold and he could feel it tremble.

“I am sorry that he is gone. I wish I could undo all the evil that was done.”

“I also, Thor. I am sorry you lost your father, though I mourn only for your pain and not his death.”

Thor nodded, accepting the truth.

“As for how we can help. Tyr has sent messengers and Býleistr is considering his offer. Your Uncle has offered to return the Casket of Winters in exchange for you.”

“This is good news for your people Loki. I am surprised, though gladdened, that my uncle has decided to trust the Jötnar.”

“I doubt that he trusts us. There is another condition. I am to be sent to Asgard also, both as hostage to keep Býleistr from using the Casket for war and to forge an alliance. Tyr requires that I become prince consort to the heir of Asgard’s throne.”

Thor’s head snapped up. 

“How do you feel about that?”

“It is not a difficult choice to make.” Loki began. “I know it is best for Jötunheim, but Thor, I must consent to have my magic bound.” 

“Is that such a high price to pay?”

“To be cut off from my own soul?” Loki twisted his hand out of Thor’s grasp. “You do not know what it is you ask. However, it is just punishment for what I did to you. I will consent, though it is a hard thing. But for peace between Jötunheim and Asgard, for the healing of my world, it is a small sacrifice.”

“I will not make our marriage either a sacrifice nor a punishment,” Thor said. "and when I am king I shall see your magic unbound."

“Thor, your uncle has taken the throne, for Odin named him heir. It is Tyr’s heir I must marry.” Loki looked up and tears tracked down his face.

“Loki, Try has but one son and Haakon is already married. He would not agree to a divorce to form an alliance, for Haakon adores his wife and places her happiness above all else. Even the king cannot require a man to put his wife aside. My uncle Ve died without children. There are no other nephews or sons, to take the throne. If Tyr does not mean to name me his heir, then why would he bargain for my return?” 

Loki’s tongue touched his lips and he looked at Thor warily. Thor reached out and cradled Loki’s chin in his hand. 

“But Loki, what I need to know is, is the chance for peace between our realms the only reason you would agree to be my consort?”

“No Thor.” Loki’s voice was low. “I would take you of my own choice, if I were free to do so, and you would have me.” 

“That I shall.” said Thor, and he leaned forward and Loki’s lips were cool and tasted of tears. Loki turned his head and his lips parted, his eye closed and his good hand cradled the back of Thor’s head. Thor returned the caress and kissed him slow and deep and gentle. There was no rush, no burning hunger that had to be sated. Grief was too strong in both their hearts for lust to gain a foothold. When the kiss broke Thor moved onto the bed beside Loki, and Loki leaned back against him. Thor put both arms around him, dropped his head and carefully kissed his shorn scalp. 

“Do not.” Loki said.

“I’m sorry. Is your head still sore?” Thor asked.

“No.” Loki said and rolled his shoulders before settling back against Thor. “It is… It is not proper.”

“To be kissed on the top of your head?” Thor was worried. He knew so little about Jötnar culture it was easy to make a misstep.

“No, of course not. It is improper for my hair to be cut so. Only warriors shave their heads. A sorcerer always wears his hair long.”

“But I have seen your soldiers with hair.”

“Only the southerners, and everyone knows they are barbarians with no sense of propriety whatsoever.”

Thor chuckled at that. It seemed the Jötnar were not without prejudices after all. 

“It will grow back in time. Do not let such a small thing bother you so.”

“A small thing? To look as something I am not?” Loki said and there was a catch in his voice that caused Thor to tighten his hold.

“What is it Loki?” Thor asked.

“Can you not see? Will I not have to give up my very form to live on Asgard? Will I not be bound as Bestla was and forced into the shape of an Aesir woman? Dependent on your mercy, on your favor for everything. Can you not see that it does not matter how I feel about you taking me as mate? Do you not understand that I will have no say in any part of my life once I am on Asgard? Is it too much to wish that I could spend these last few days of freedom looking as the sorcerer I still am, rather than the powerless creature I must become?”

“Loki I assure you those things will not happen. I will not allow it.”

“Truly Thor? Your people will accept that you will take a _male_ Jötunn as consort? Do you think they will accept a king who could let another _man_ take him? I am not that ignorant of your culture. As it was before, so shall it be again. At least this time, I know what I am sacrificing and why I must do so.”

“I shall be their king and they will accept you as you are.” Thor said stubbornly. “No matter the conditions Try would put on you, when I take the throne they will be rescinded.”

“And how long will that be? How many years will I be little more than a slave dependent on the goodwill of my master?”

“Tyr is an old man and he will not live many more years. But however long he lives you shall never be my slave, I will treat you as my equal. Do you not trust me?”

“It matters not whether I trust you or no. Nor do your promises matter. Neither changes the truth of the situation.” Loki sighed. “I did not come down here to fight with you.”

He turned his head and nuzzled Thor’s jaw, the golden beard was coarse, but not as rough as he’d expected. Thor was started at this action, after Loki’s harsh words. 

“Loki, I tell you again, I will not…”

“Thor please be silent. This I do by my own will. Let me have this untainted by any further thought of the future.”

Thor nodded, though he still did not believe things would be as bleak as Loki painted them. This time it was Loki who instigated the kiss, Loki who placed his hand on Thor’s chest and urged Thor down on the bed. It was Loki who straddled him and kissed his throat while he tugged at the laces of his tunic. And it was Loki who after leaving a trail of sharp toothed nips halfway down his chest returned to kissing his lips with a mounting passion. Loki who threaded his slender fingers in Thor hair and whispered in his ear.

“Let us be neither prince nor prisoner nor Aesir nor Jötunn. Let us only be lovers tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shall we tastefully cut away to a nice glowing fireplace at this point?


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lovers.

Thor shivered at Loki’s touch, at his words. He murmured his agreement and nuzzled under Loki’s jaw. He felt Loki’s pulse beating fast under his lips. Knew that this was no feigned desire. He licked down the delicate raised kin lines that marked Loki’s long throat and felt the sorcerer’s soft moan before he heard it. He undid the toggle buttons that held the soft woolen tunic closed. Loki wore no undergarment and his cerulean skin was cool to Thor’s touch. Loki leaned back, his weight resting on Thor’s hips. Thor took in the smooth planes of his chest and the lean the muscles of his abdomen. He stroked over the purple flushed nipples and they tightened into hard crinkled nubs under his fingers. Loki’s eyelids half closed, and the nictitating membranes slid part way across, giving his eyes a strange half red, half green appearance. His cheeks flushed that same purple hue, lips parted and he sighed,

“Yes…”

Thor’s hands spread over his lover’s pectorals, fingertips caressing his collar bones and moving up until the tunic hung off one shoulder. He stroked down Loki’s ribs, one hand carefully slipping under the sling until they both rested on the Jötunn’s hips. It hurt Thor to see areas of darker blue where the flesh was still bruised and he worked around them as he explored Loki’s body. Loki responded to his touch with soft sounds and gentle touches on Thor’s forearm.

“Take this off.” Loki said, tugging at Thor’s own tunic, his tone holding a trace of command. “I want to see you.”

“More than see, I hope.” said Thor with a grin, pulling the thicker wool tunic over his head. Loki made a tutting sound at the revelation of a linen undershirt.

“Where did all this clothing come from? Surely your mother did not pack a bag for you.” 

“It is a function of Mjölnir that my armor and all appropriate clothing appear when I call her.”

“Convenient.” Loki said, wrestling one handed with the undershirt’s lacing. “Do you not have buttons on Asgard?” 

Thor caught his fingers and brought them to his lips, kissed them. “It will be quicker if you let me do it myself.” He said and gently rolled onto his side, depositing Loki on his back. 

“Very well.” Loki huffed, as Thor got to his feet. 

Thor grinned down at him and slowly pulled the undershirt off, revealing his powerful arms and thickly muscled torso. Loki’s tongue showed pink on his lips and he gave a low growl. Thor placed one booted foot on the edge of the bed, unbuckled the boot and dropped it to the floor. Loki chuckled at the most unsexy, chunky grey sock he’d ever seen. Thor wiggled his toes in response and Loki’s chuckle became a snort.

“Is this your attempt at seduction? Or comedy?”

“Both.” Thor replied, shucking the rest of his footwear. “There is no reason you should not thoroughly enjoy yourself. I like your laugh. It’s so dignified.”

Loki swatted at him with a pillow and Thor shimmied back from the bed, wiggling his hips in a bad imitation of a tavern dancer. He moved slowly in a circle undoing his pants and sliding them off as he wiggled to an unheard melody. Loki was trapped between laughing at his ridiculous display and marveling at the sheer alien beauty of Thor’s body. How he had curves of layered muscle instead of the lean angles of the Jötnar. Loki liked the strange sight of the golden hair that haloed Thor's body against the light. 

The undershorts followed the pant to the floor and Thor’s heavy cock swayed as he danced. Loki felt desire tighten in his groin and his own cock started to stiffen.

“You are a terrible dancer.” Loki said, smiling. “I see I have much to teach you. Were I in better shape, you would learn how a dance of seduction should be performed.”

“I look forward to the lesson.” Thor answered, and sat back on the bed.

He removed Loki’s soft appliquéd slippers and his thin socks, knitted with intricate patterns of green and black. He ran a finger across the sole of one foot and was rewarded with a sharp gasp, an unintentional giggle and a hard kick to his chest with the other. 

Loki tried to pull his foot free. “Don’t you dare!” he swore.

Thor tightened his grip on Loki’s ankle and grinned wickedly.

“Who would have thought that Jötnar are ticklish?” Thor said and repeated the maneuver. 

Loki laughed, kicked at him again and Thor caught his other ankle and pulled Loki’s feet up to his broad shoulders, while Loki squirmed helplessly on his back.

“Let me go, you Aesir boar!”

“If only you didn’t have your pants on, I could do something with this position.” Thor said, kneeling between Loki's thighs and pushing the sorcerer's long legs up until his knees folded.

“Then get them off.” Loki snapped.

He was one part amused and one part exasperated at Thor’s teasing. He wanted to touch him, to run his hand down that golden furred chest, over his muscled belly. He wanted to curl his fingers around Thor’s semi hard shaft and coax it into full tumescence. But he couldn’t even reach him in this position, one handed as he was, and constrained by bruised ribs. Yet despite his frustration, he was entranced with Thor’s playful side, his tenderness. 

Thor kissed the inside of Loki's shins, one and then the other and Loki stopped squirming. The Aesir leaned forward, resting Loki’s heels on his shoulders and undid the buttons on Loki's pants. Sliding them off the Jötunn's hips and down his lean thighs then pulling them free of his feet. Loki hadn’t had anyone undress him since he was a child. Thor’s careful attention wasn’t pandering to Loki’s injuries, it was an oddly worshipful gesture. Thor folded the clothing before setting it aside, instead of dropping it to the floor as he had his own. He kissed up the inside of Loki’s legs, tracing his markings with those impossibly warm lips. Loki moaned and wished he had the magic reserve to simply dispel the undershorts that were tented by his rising cock. Then Thor’s broad hands were over the shorts, tracing the woven designs with his fingertips from the inside of his thighs up to the hollow of his hips and then across to his hip bones and back down the sides. 

“Everything on Jötunheim is made to be beautiful,” Thor said and raised his head and smiled. He cupped Loki’s chin and brushed his fingers over his uninjured cheek. “But nothing is as beautiful as you.”

Loki wanted to pull away, to deny Thor’s words as hyperbole. He was anything but beautiful, with his burned face and bruised body, his stubbled and scarred scalp. Even without the damage, his features were too soft to be considered other than average. But he could say nothing disparaging to the open sincerity of Thor’s expression and do nothing but reach his hand up to return the gesture. He stroked his fingers through Thor’s beard.

“Get on with it you great hairy beast before we both die of old age.”

Thor’s eyes sparkled with humor and he laughed, a deep warm sound that traveled through Loki’s chest and into his heart.

“I am lost.” Loki thought. “He needs no magic torc to bind me to his will. No bargain forged between kings. I will give myself entire to have him look on me like this and to hear his open hearted laughter.”

Then Thor dropped his head, and his breath blew hot through the thin material over Loki’s cock, and Loki cried out as if he were in pain. 

Thor would have pulled away, afraid he had somehow hurt him, but Loki’s hand fisted in his hair and his hips thrust up so swiftly his cock bumped Thor’s nose. Thor chuckled and nuzzled and Loki whined in a need so raw it terrified him. 

“I can’t. I can’t.” Loki’s thoughts raced. “I have to stop him, I can’t let him in. He will own me.” He opened his mouth to tell Thor no, to end this terrible vulnerability, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He was at war between fear and love. 

He felt the cool air on his shaft as his undershorts were opened and then the heat of Thor’s mouth enveloped him and all thought was banished. His fear melted away in that warmth. In the soft slick touch of tongue and lips and the gaze of clear blue eyes that watched his face. In the hands that removed the last of his clothing, save the open tunic draped over his shoulders.

Loki rocked his hips into that incredible sucking heat, into the grasp of strong fingers around the base of his cock. He growled low as Thor’s other hand cradled his balls in the palm and brushed seeking fingertips over the slick cunt behind them. Thor's thick warm fingers thrust slowly into him and he cried out again, unable to hold back the sound of his pleasure. 

“By the Norns! Thor! Ahh!”

Thor’s fingers slide deeper and his mouth pulled up the length of Loki’s shaft. His tongue lapped over the empurpled head and he kissed down the underside of Loki'd cock,his lips warm. Loki bucked, trying to bury himself back into that wet heat. Thor obliged him and this time took him into his throat, all the way to the base until his nose rubbed the naked skin of the Jötunn’s groin. Loki groaned at the tight clasp as Thor swallowed him, at the rough touch of his beard on tender skin. Sensation was overpowering Loki. He could feel Thor’s power burning under his golden skin and the sharp sting of sparks trickled where they touched. The electrical tingle flickered inside of him and around him and Loki couldn’t get enough. He bucked and thrust and writhed. He could feel the magic coiling in the air and an answering power rising from the ground. 

Thor lifted his head, Loki’s cock falling from his lips, a questioning look in his eyes, and Loki knew he felt the building magic also. 

“What..?” Thor asked

“Take me! Now!” Loki commanded, his voice rough with desire. 

There was no doubt it was an order. For a moment Thor almost rebelled, but the sight of Loki spread out under him, beautiful and open and wanting, was too much for him to be truly bothered by any twinge of pride. He pulled his fingers from the rippled slick cool grip of Loki’s body and brought them to his mouth. Loki tasted subtly of salt and sharply of a strange bitterness like juniper berries. Not a pleasant taste normally but it sparked something deep within Thor and he sucked every drop from his fingers as an aching fire built in his blood. Loki thrust his hips up begging for him with his body and Thor answered, moving up between Loki’s long legs and lining himself up at the gleaming entrance. He could feel the charge around them like the dangerous pause before a lighting strike. When he pressed into Loki’s cool slick grasp the the boom of thunder shook the ground.

Loki pulled Thor down till he was buried full length into him, filling him with an alien heat. Thor’s weight was heavy and hot, almost scorching on his skin. It should have been too much, but it was the welcome warmth of the long awaited summer. He was lost in eyes the color of the glimpsed blue sky, taken by the fire of a sun burning a brighter gold than the pale orb that shone above the brooding clouds. Those dark clouds were breaking under the driving thrust of the storm, releasing their hoarded rain onto the winter parched earth. Thor’s fingers tangled in his hair, and his lips caught Loki’s panting mouth. Loki breathed in his heated breath, breathed in his power. His hand tightened on the Aesir’s muscled rump and Thor drove into him again. 

Loki was the earth, frozen for a thousand years, yearning for the healing touch of his lover. Thor was the spring storm driving away the cold and flooding the hungry earth with life. They held tight to each other, wound into a magic older than memory. Thor’s power was Aesir’s fire and Vanir’s warmth and Loki’s seidr was Jötnar’s enduring love. They were sheathed in the white fire of Thor's lightning and the cool green light of Loki's seidr, the magic brightening with each pulse of their hearts. Loki felt his flesh healing, his broken arm knit back together, under the protective bandage his once wounded eye could perceive the light that played over them. 

Thor rocked into him, a stroking heat that pulsed from his cunt and up the length of his cock were it rubbed against Thor’s belly. His lover’s chest was pressed to his and Thor’s mouth opened to his licking tongue. He squirmed, freeing, his now healing arm from the sling to claw at Thor’s back. Trying to get closer, to drive their flesh tighter together. Thor gripped his shoulder and thrust faster skin dragging over skin. Loki nipped Thor’s lower lip, broke their kiss to throw his head back, gasping for air. His hips rocking as he rutted his cock against Thor’s sweat slick abs. 

He was starving, maddened by a desire that was both his and that of the barren earth. He wrapped his legs around Thor and rutted into his thrusts. His nails dug into Thor’s soft skin and the Aesir’s blood was warm under his hands. The magic surged between them and around them building ever higher. 

“More! Harder! FUCK ME!” Loki screamed. 

Thor growled in thunder and pounded into him like a deluge. This was where he belonged. This was his home. Here in Loki’s arms, his long legs locked around his hips, Loki’s tight cunt milking his cock and his hard shaft rubbing and leaking against Thor’s belly. The sharp pain of his lover’s nails urging him on. 

“LOKI!” Thor cried out. 

He felt Loki’s body shudder, felt the clenching grasp on his cock, the uneven jerking of Loki’s hips and the splash of cool wetness on his ribs and chest.

“Thor, love.. my love…” Loki panted. 

Thor came at his words, the aching tension throbbed through his cock, released in slow pulsing waves, his thrusts easing, the ancient spell exploding silently outward from them in an invisible cascade.

They lay twined together. Their panting loud in the sudden quiet. The grumble of thunder growing softer as the storm spread out, following the surge of magic. Loki reached up and pulled the bandage from his face and blinked his eyes, the left still a little tender and watering. Thor touched his face, careful of the burns that marked his blue skin with streaks of white.

“I love you.” Thor said in a voice filled with wonder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this first installment, of the long awaited porn lived up to expectations.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misunderstandings and different perspectives.

Loki lay quietly on the verge of sleep, the power that had poured through them during their lovemaking had dissipated, leaving them both wrung out and tired. Thor was already asleep, his breathing slow and deep, with just a little of the rumbling snore that sounded like distant thunder. Loki had moved away from him as the heat of his body was too much for comfort. He wondered that he had craved that foreign touch only moments before. Would it still be the same when he was in the form of an Aesir? Thor had sworn he didn’t want Loki in any other shape then that he’d been born into, but how else would he survive Asgard’s climate? 

Thor had been willing to play the fool to entertain him, so perhaps he would honor his word to treat Loki as an equal. A tightness that had been in his chest since he’d heard the requirements for the return of the Casket of Winters, began to ease. A freedom granted under the hand of your owner, however unwilling Thor was to be that owner, was not much of a freedom, but it gave Loki some hope. If only he wasn’t being forced to marry Thor, they could have come to an agreement on their own terms. He sighed and let the thought go. That was for tomorrow. He needed to rise now and go to his family. This was his last day and he wanted to spend it with those he may never see again. 

Loki turned to his lover and brushed a hand over his brow and Thor’s eye’s fluttered open. He smiled at Loki.

“I must leave you for a while, my love. There will be clean robes and a warm bath provided, so when you return to Asgard, you will clothed in the manner befitting a prince.”

“Must you leave? There is so much I wish to say to you. I have missed you sorely this past few days.”

“We will have years to talk, but this is the last day I may see my son and my brothers. Do not begrudge me the little time I have left.”

Thor sat up and picked his clothing up as Loki dressed. 

“I am sorry Loki, I had forgotten about your son. But there is no need to say goodbye to him. Bring him along with us. I would welcome your child to our family.”

“From what you have told me of Asgard, I doubt your people would feel the same.”

“When there is peace between our realms, I hope there will be more of your people visiting Asgard. You and your son will allow them to get used to the idea. I would very much like to meet your boy. If he is half as handsome and clever as his father he will soon win my people over.”

“He is not.” Loki said in a harsh voice. He finished buttoning his tunic and ran a hand through his hair smoothing out the tangles.

“Loki?” Thor asked. “I … did I say something wrong?”

Loki let out his breath in a rush and much of his anger with it. He’d never said anything about Sleipnir, but one would think Thor would remember something of the effects of Odin's actions.

“He’s not a boy Thor, Sleipnir is a grown Jötunn. He is almost twice my height and more handsome then I.”

“That he is more beautiful then you, I find hard to believe.” Thor said with a smile. “We would need make accommodations for his size, if he would like to come with you. However I see no reason…”

“He is one of the warborn Thor. My son has the mind of a small child. How kindly would your people treat him? Will you help him dress? Or bath him? Or clean up his messes? He has already lost his beloved grandparent, and he does not understand why Laufey will not come back. Will you have me rip him away from his home into a world where he would be seen, at best, as an object of pity and at worse as a monstrosity undeserving of life?”

Loki turned away from Thor and fought down the tears. 

“I can only pray he will soon forget me.”

“Loki, this… this isn’t right. I won’t ask you to go. I won’t take you away from everyone you love for my sake.”

Thor’s words shocked Loki out of his own hurt. He didn’t need Thor acting stupidly noble when his goal was finally in sight.

“It is not for your sake that I am going to Asgard. It is for the sake of my people and my world. My sorrow is a small price to pay. Do not dare to do anything to jeopardize this agreement Odinson.”

Thor was stung at Loki’s sharp words.

“So that was all that this was? A political maneuver? You pretended to care for me, for what? So I’ll agree to your demands once we are married? So that I’ll create policies that favor your realm above all others when I am king?”

Thor’s accusations felt like a slap in the face. Loki had come to Thor so he could enjoy what little love they could share unfettered, by their own choice, before their relationship was tainted by the power plays of Tyr and Býleistr. Loki snapped back in anger.

“Why should I not look first to the safety and well being of my people? What manner of king puts his own pleasure before his subjects’ needs? If that is how you think, perhaps it is well that your Uncle rules in your stead.”

Thor growled. “I do look after my people. I’ve defended the nine realms with my life.”

“You mean you fought to keep the nine under Odin’s heel.” Loki snarled back. 

“Must you always judge me by my father’s actions?” Thor roared. “Have I not shown you I have changed? What do you want from me?”

“My world restored. My people whole." Loki's cold voice was an icy blade that cut through Thor's bluster. He refused to be shouted down by the Aesir. "Can you not understand that means more to me than anything or anyone?” 

Loki’s fists were clenched at his side, his lips thinned and pressed together as he fought to control his emotions. Was this his future? Need he argue for the slightest bit of understanding day after day? He watched Thor's face as the Aesir's anger receded.

“Anyone?” Thor asked softly, pleading with his eyes.

Loki look at him unbelieving. How could he be so blind? How spoiled was this man child that he thought his love was more important than all of Loki’s world?

“Yes. There is nothing I would not do, no sacrifice I would not make, to see Jötunheim restored. Nothing Thor. If you do not understand that, you do not understand me.”

“Then how can I ever trust you?”

“Never ask me to choose between my people and yourself. Is that so difficult?”

“But I chose you Loki. I defied my father and I chose you. And now you tell me it was all a ploy?”

“Norns, Thor I never said that. You foolish boy, this is not about you. It is not about me. I wish it were otherwise.”

“You wish you were free?”

“Of course I wish I was free. I would rather choose my mate without the interference of politics. But what I wish does not matter. What you wish does not matter. The only thing that matters is tomorrow I go to Asgard in exchange for the Casket of Winters and my world will begin to heal.”

Loki ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. 

“As you wish Loki. Obviously how I feel means nothing to you.” Thor said stiffly. “ You have no cause for concern. I will abide by the terms of the treaty.” 

Loki bit his lip to keep from cursing Thor and his ridiculous, self centered attitude. He turned on his heel and stalked from the cell, closing the door behind him. Tears burned in his eyes. Thor was getting everything he wanted, and still he demanded more from Loki. Should he lie and tell Thor he was happy to be forced to marry the next king of Asgard? It didn’t matter that he loved the idiot. He was giving up his freedom. After tomorrow he would be dependent on Thor for any and all considerations. The inequality of the arrangement would poison their love before it had a chance to grow. Thor not only could not see that, he was already attempting to change Loki into someone more compliant with his own viewpoint. That he wanted Loki to forswear his honor as a prince and put his love of Thor above the needs of Loki’s own realm, boded ill for their relationship. 

Loki wished he’d never come down to see Thor. If he had not listened to the longing in his heart, he might have been able to effectively play the part laid out for him. But he’d been greedy and tried to grab a few hours of what might have been. All he’d done was hamstring his potential influence. By being honest in his intentions, he’d armored Thor against any future manipulation for a more equal alliance between Asgard and Jötunheim. Was failure upon failure to be his only legacy? He needed Laufey’s council as he had never needed it before.

Loki found himself at the door of his bearer’s room, before he remembered. He opened the door anyway, running his hand over the polished cedar wood. It had been a gift from the southern territories when Loki was a child and he could still remember its once warm spicy scent. Býleistr would be moving into these rooms when the month of mourning was over, but for now they would remain as Laufey left them. 

Loki wandered around the study, picking up some of Laufey’s possessions and then putting them down. It was wrong that they were still here, when the Jötunn who had owned them was gone. These blind, unthinking, unfeeling, things were what should be gone, not Laufey. Not the Jötunn who Loki could always depend on. Whose love was unstinting, whose support was the foundation on which Loki had built his life. He paused and looked out of the window, cut low so even as a child Loki could see the city spread out below their home. He remembered Laufey standing above him, his deep voice a comforting rumble as he spoke of duty and care and the lost glory of Jötunheim. How many times had he vowed to Laufey that he would see that glory returned? He’d finally fulfilled his vow, but his bearer was not here to see it. The victory was bittersweet without Laufey's witness. Loki wiped the tears from his eyes and used the basin to wash away all signs of his upset. Sleipnir didn't need to know he had been crying. Loki wanted his last day with his son to be as carefree as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, because if I don't post this now, who knows how long y'all would have had to wait.  
> All is not perfect in paradise.  
> Next chapter will be from Thor's viewpoint.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's last day on Jötunheim.

Loki spent the morning with Sleipnir. His son’s imagination was not lacking and Loki was by turns a great whale to be dragged from the depths of the blanket sea, a fierce thunderbeast to be tracked across the wilds of the kitchen and pantry until he was captured and tamed with the help of Uncle Helblindi. Lastly he was a fabled frost fox, befriended to grant Sleipnir three wishes. That one of his son’s wishes was for the return of Laufey, brought Loki to tears and father and son shared their grief. When Sleipnir’s nurse led him away for his nap Loki followed. 

He lay beside Sleipnir, resting his head on his son’s upper arm and brushing his fingers through his short dark curled hair. Sleipnir’s dark eyes closed and in a few minutes he was asleep. Loki remembered all the years past, when Sleipnir had been small enough to sleep in Loki’s arms. Now he was the small one, at least in body. He’d carried Sleipnir as long as he could, taking to his bed in the last month, weaving his own magic into his flesh to keep his child safe. It wasn’t until the healer’s declared both their lives were at risk that Loki allowed Sleipnir to be cut from his body, the baby already too large for a normal birth. Loki had held off almost until it was too late and the surgery was a hurried, bloody business. It was worth it. Every pain, every sorrow, every frustration he’d ever felt was a small price to pay for his son. He kissed Sleipnir’s forehead and eased out of his arms. There was work he had to do with Helblindi and he’d put it off long enough. 

The dwarf was not happy. Not that Loki had ever seen a happy dwarf. The few he’d observed in other realms seemed to wear a scowl as their perpetual expression. He’d never chanced their realm, uncertain of his reception in a place so strongly allied with Asgard, and too respectful of their magic to believe he could pass unnoticed. Maybe at home they were a laughing, happy people, or perhaps they sent their sour tempered kin out trading to keep them from spreading discontent. Loki stopped his mind wandering down the paths of fruitless speculation. It was because he didn’t want to think about the carved wooden box the dwarf was holding nor the fierce looks that Helblindi was trading with the Aesir woman seated across the table. She was grey haired and wrinkled and looked as though she smelled something disagreeable. There was a weak aura of seidr around her. She must be the best mage that the Aesir could find, now that Odin was dead and Frigga seeking refuge on Vanaheim. Loki didn’t think much of her. 

He nodded to his brother. 

“Helblindi.”

“Loki.” Helblindi replied. “This in Master Glinor of Niðavellir and Hallfridr Tokisdottir.”

Loki gave then each a short stiff bow and then climbed up into his chair. They were seated on the one tall bench that was reserved for any visiting warborn and Glinor had extra cushions piled on top of that so he could reach the tabletop. Loki took a small pleasure in the dwarf’s discomfort.

“Let us see the restraint.” Loki said. 

The dwarf opened the box and there was not a torc, but a pair of golden bracelets. Had they been for any other purpose Loki would have admired the craftsmanship, for they were beautifully made. Under an inch in width, and no thicker than parchment, they were decorated with stylized flowers and herbs, with grape vines boardering the edges. Loki picked one up and ran his fingers over it, quickly studying the magic. 

“What do you think you are doing?” Hallfridr asked angrily.

“Testing that the spells are as per the treaty.” Loki said without raising his voice. He handed the first bracelet to Helblindi and picked up the other.

“You dare question the word of our king?” 

“Of course. I’m no fool, to place my trust in an enemy’s words.”

She leaned across the table her face twisted in fury. “Honorless Jötunn fil…” 

Loki raised his hand and her voice was cut off mid word. She was frozen, her mouth still open and her hand raised as if she’d meant to slap him. He speared her with his full attention. 

“You are in my realm, on the sufferance of my king, Tokisdottir. For your words alone, I could kill you without consequence. I know your people consider a woman of little value and a mage of even less. Do you think Tyr would risk war and the death of his kin over your paltry fate?”

Glinor didn’t so much as glance at the woman and said. “I believe, Prince Loki, the Aesir was sent as witness to this exchange.”

Strange though the dwarf’s guttural tones were to Loki’s ear, even he could hear the affronted anger.

“It seems the golden realm has little trust in its allies.”

Loki handed the second bracelet to Helblindi who returned the first to the dwarf.

“Nor in a contract fulfilled. Do they meet with your approval?” Glinor asked.

“No, Master Glinor, they do not.” Loki replied. “For all their beauty they are foul things, as you well know. Even so I would have you lay one last enchantment on them.”

“I have not contracted for an additional spell,” Glinor said, “nor shall I violate the previous contract.”

“You will be paid for the extra work” Helblindi said. “And I am certain what my brother has in mind will not violate your honor.” He turned to Loki. “Release the Aesir Loki. I have no desire to stare down his throat until this is resolved.”

“Her throat,” Loki corrected. He removed the hold of his seidr. “Tokisdottir, I advise you to remain silent, lest you incur the wrath of your king upon your household, because your death held up these proceedings.”

Hallfridr sagged forward. Her strange pale grey eyes burned with rage, but she said nothing.

“What is your request, Prince Loki?” Glinor asked.

“That you enchant these bracelets, so that no other spell may be added to them.”

Glinor smiled a particularly nasty smile. “I see Jötunheim has a long memory.”

“That we do. For both those who do us wrong and those who are our friends.” Helblindi said.

“It was not my clan who altered the purpose of the torc.” Glinor said.

“If it was we would never have accepted your work.” Loki said. “So smith, can you do as I request?”

“Yes. The spell itself is simple, and I see no conflict with the bracelets’ original intent.”

“I must protest.” Hallfridr said. “There is nothing in the contract that allows for an alteration of the shackles.”

“Precisely.” Loki said. As much as he hated Hallfridr he had to admire her bravery in speaking up, and her honesty in calling the restraints by their true name. 

“The prince wishes to ensure that such an alteration does not occur at a future time.” Glinor said. “The enchantment will not change the properties of the bracelets.”

“King Tyr knew what he wanted when he ordered them made. It is not up to you to decide to change them, dwarf.”

Loki saw the way Glinor bristled at the Aesir’s words. To treat a Master mage smith as if they were a servant was stupidly shortsighted. Loki smiled and rose to his feet.

“The perhaps you should go to Asgard to discuss this with your king. By the time you return with his approval, I’m certain my brother and Master Glinor will have arrived at a fair compensation for his extra trouble.”

Hallfridr narrowed her eyes and rose to her feet also. “That I shall do, but I insist on taking those with me.”

“Of course.” Loki cut in, before Glinor could voice a protest. “We don’t want there to any questions of their legitimacy when the time comes.”

He bowed Hallfridr out and followed her back to the entrance of Utgard, where he turned her over to a mixed guard of Aesir and Jötnar. He felt the power of the Bifrost that signaled her departure as he returned to the main council chamber. Helblindi came up to him with a smile wreathing his face.

“So how did it go?”

“Well. Master Glinor is presently poking about in my storeroom gathering up several hundred years’ worth of my foraging. I do hope this will be worth it, Loki.”

“It will Hel. Asgard’s blades are sharpened on Niðavellir’s files and they have been taking such an arrangement for granted. Glinor is no fool and I believe he is tired of being treated as one.”

“She.” said Helblindi.

“Huh?” Loki asked.

“Master Glinor is a female dwarf.”

“Oh. I assumed because of the beard…” Loki shook his head. “It matters not. What matters is she knows the Jötnar respect both mages and craftsmen, and have spell components for trade that the dwarves haven’t seen in a millennium.” 

“Some of them we haven’t seen in a millennium, Loki.” Helblindi said in a petulant tone. He waved his hand as if to shoo away his concern. “I know, it’s a small sacrifice for the good of the realm.” His hand flew to his mouth.

“Oh I didn’t mean, didn’t mean to compare the loss of a few, a few things with you having to leave, to leave...”

“Norns! Hel, I know that. Stop acting as if I’m going to break in two. We won. Jötunheim is will be healed. If that means I must move to Asgard to spend my days lording it over a bunch of idiots like Tokisdottir and my nights fucking the tightest ass in the nine realms, then who am I to complain?”

Helblindi chuckled at the crudity. “Is he really?” 

“Like trying to drive a harpoon through a keyhole.”

“Loki!” Said in mock prudishness. 

“You did ask.” 

Their shared laughter was more of relief then humor.

“I’ll miss you.” Helblindi said.

He gave Loki’s shoulder a powerful squeeze that ground his bones together. Loki punched him in the stomach and the bigger Jötun let him go. 

“And I you. But it won’t be forever. When Thor is king, the realms will once again be open.”

“I hope you are right, Loki.”

“I am. Do you not trust my ability to bend one Aesir to my will?” Loki said with a grin.

“The Prince of Asgard stands not a chance.” Helblindi chuckled. ”Shall we see what damage the dwarf has wrought in my collection?”

“I’d rather not. I’d prefer to trust you with the rest of the… arrangements. There a few things I’d like to discuss with Bly.”

“Understood. I’ll see you at dinner?” 

“Yes. Thank the Norns it’s only us tonight. I could not bear another formal affair.” 

Helblindi nodded and Loki went in search of Jötunheim’s new king. 

Býleistr was in his old quarters leaning back in his chair, a cup of willow brush tea in his hand and wearing a crown of ice. Not the ice crown, which was actually made of huge rough cut diamonds, but a heavy frozen circlet that was dripping thin runnels down his too pale face. 

“You should have sent for me or Hel.” Loki said stepping behind the chair and placing his hands on Býleistr’s shoulders. 

“You were both busy. It will pass Loki. They always do.” 

“True, but there is no need for you to suffer in the meantime.” Loki rubbed the tense muscles and sent small tendrils of magic to ease the ache.

“I noticed your arm and eye have healed. Was that the result of that storm you stirred up last night?”

“Hel had the good sense to not comment on it.”

“Hel didn’t notice because he was busy with his own concerns. He’ll probably blurt out something tomorrow in front of the delegation, with his usual diplomatic timing.”

“He’s a meticulous spell crafter. Better than I am. And his knowledge of the more esoteric magics is unparalleled. You shouldn’t disregard his intelligence.”

“It’s his common sense I question, not his intelligence.” Býleistr sighed as Loki’s fingers prodded the base of his skull. “That storm caused a ground thaw all around Utgard and I have reports of plants already pushing through the earth as far as five miles away. If Tyr is reluctant to return the Casket of Winters I’d consider having you and your pet Aesir tour Jötunheim and rail it into spring.” 

“I doubt the effect is permanent.” Loki worked into the knot of pain with his magic, slowly easing it apart. 

“At the least you’re established he’s capable of providing an heir.”

“Wait until we are wed before you wish me with child Bly. Even if he’s capable, I may not be. I still carry Odin’s curse in my blood.”

“You don’t know that. Size alone is no evidence of a warborn, especially when you are gifted with seidr in such abundance. And before you mention Sleipnir, his sire was warborn and it’s just as likely the curse was passed through that line.”

Loki didn’t press the argument. He didn’t want to think what would happen to him or his future children should they be cursed. Thor’s words “not allowed to be born” came back to him and he felt sick. He focused his attention to chasing down the last of his brother’s pain. 

“You could always have Úlfr look after these headaches.”

“I’m in no need of a nanny.”

“Sleipnir doesn’t take up all his time and he has enough healing skill to prevent them getting this bad. If you would take care of our people, you must first take care of yourself. I’ll mention it to him.”

Býleistr stretched his neck, shrugged his shoulders then reached up and dispelled the ice. He started to rise and Loki put a hand on his shoulder and pushed. Though he could have easily resisted Loki, he settled back into the chair.

“Rest a while, or it will return.”

“I’m meeting with the senior counsel again this afternoon. The Jarls should be kept informed of the latest developments.”

“Informed, yes. Allowed to discuss it ad nauseam, no. Send out messengers. Most of the counsel will be content with that, and you can deal with the ones who are not after this business with Asgard is over.”

“I shall miss your advice.”

Loki walked to the shelf where his brother’s experiments in alcohol were displayed. He took down an unfamiliar glass bottle filled with a pale yellow liquid. 

“I don’t know why. You rarely take it.” 

“I always take it into consideration. Doing this alone without yours or father’s help...” Býleistr sighed this time in frustration. “It is difficult. I do not have father’s patience with our people. They can be so stupid at times.”

“You’ve been practically running the realm for the past few years. Mapa may have overseen your rule but he gave you a free hand and you’ve done well. You are a good man Bly, and you will be a great king. The rest will come in time.”

Loki sloshed the bottle and raised an eyebrow.

It’s pure honey wine from Asgard. I’d be careful with it, it’s rather strong.”

“It looks like piss. If it’s at all drinkable, then strong is what I wish. I intend on being thoroughly drunk when they put those shackles on me.” Loki poured out a glass, sniffed and then sipped.

“It’s quite good. At least their liquor is palatable. Too bad I can’t say the same for their food. They don’t hunt whales in that scrap of water they call a sea. Nor do they harvest seal, according to Thor. Even fish is a rarity.”

“I can speak to Tyr about sending your favorites.” 

“No. It's better I get used to their cuisine.”

“Loki you needn’t give up every comfort of home.”

“I must! Do you think having a bite of seal or some reindeer butter and peasbread will help when I won’t be able to see you? Or Hel? Or Sleipnir?!” 

Loki stopped, his chest heaving. His vision blurred with tears. He emptied the glass of mead in one gulp and quickly poured another. 

“We’ll take good care of him. I love him as if he were my own child.”

“I know, I know you will, you do.”

Loki took a long drink. 

“Do you mean to get drunk now? I assumed you would wait until the morning.”

“Why? The waiting is the worst of it. If I’m to be enslaved then let be done quickly.”

“Loki, I thought you cared for the Aesir prince. And he for you. Why this talk of slavery?”

“I do, he does, but Bly it’s not that simple. Loki stopped.

“Do you think he will mistreat you?”

“Not by intention. 

“Then what is it?”

“He doesn’t act like a prince. He’s sulking because I told him I must place the needs of our people over his.”

“That is no longer your job, Loki. Caring for our people is now my job, and Helblindi’s and that of the senior Jarls. Your job is keeping the heir to Asgard’s throne content and showing the Aesir that we are not the monsters they believe us to be. You can no longer claim sole loyalty to Jötunheim. Asgard is to be your home and to Asgard and her concerns you must turn your mind.”

“You can’t expect me to abandon our people.”

“Not at all. But your first duty now is to win over the Aesir.”

“So I’m to be a tamed monster then? I’m to fawn and flatter and wheedle my way into their hearts?”

“You’re the one named silvertongue, not I.”

“Lets not forget I’m to be a breeding sow as well.”

“Loki you know how statecraft works. I did the best I could for you. Were you in my place would you have done anything different?” 

“I... no Bly.”

“Then grow up and stop whining. I’ll see you get your delicacies. In time I hope to exchange diplomats with them. If all goes wells we can open trade. And then travel between our realms. But until then, you are our face in Asgard. I expect you to do your duty, brother.”

Loki said nothing and turned to walk over to the window and shove aside the heavy woolen curtain. He looked out at the town he’d grown up in. At the familiar homes and businesses, the winding streets, the pasture and cropland nestled in the center of the bowl. The herders drove their animal back to the barns in the shadows of the cavern while the pale blue light faded into dark and the first lamps were lit. 

“I shall miss this. I’ve seen Asgard and I care not for it. I cherish the living beauty of Utgard, over the dead gleam of gold.”

Býleistr came up behind his younger brother and laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Then teach them of beauty other than gold.”

“What if I fail? If I cannot change their minds with soft words. What then?”

“Then little brother, you do what you always do. You find another way to succeed. You will use your clever mind and your deceitful nature and you will trick them into doing as you wish.”

“I am not deceitful. I am discrete in the sharing of knowledge.” Loki said.

Býleistr smiled. “Go spend time with Sleipnir, no more politics tonight,” He recorked the bottle of mead. “and no more drinking either.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you order me around?”

“Since I became king. I don’t need you making a disgrace of yourself tomorrow. Now go!”

Loki gave his brother an overly elaborate bow, and left.

The rest of the evening was spent with his son and later with his brothers. After Sleipnir went off to bed, much later then was custom, the three brothers stayed up. They told and retold stories of their past, of Laufey, and childhood foibles, of friends both living and dead. They shared the results of Býleistr’s experiments in distilling, agreed the honeyed brandy was excellent but that last year’s groundberry wine had aged from almost drinkable to truly horrible. 

“Maybe you can give the last two bottles to Tyr as a gift. Tell him it’s an honored custom to serve it at the wedding feast.” Helblindi suggested.

“As amusing as it might be to watch the nobles of Asgard drink this swill, I would rather my marriage not start off with accusations of attempted poisoning. I have my reputation to consider.” Loki said.

“Your reputation?” Býleistr said with a snort.

“Yes. When I poison people they aren’t around to complain about it afterward.”

“He has a point Bly. We wouldn’t want the Aesir to think our brother was incompetent.”

“True, true.” Býleistr said with a yawn. There was just the barest hint of grey creeping into the darkness. “I think it time we got ready to receive our guests.”

With that they departed to their separate quarters. Loki washed and had his hair braided, then dressed in the ceremonial clothing of a Jötunn prince. Leather boots with embroidered panels in geometric designs of green and scarlet. Black woolen pants with more of the same embroidery along the side seams. A deep green and gold under tunic, and an over tunic of black covered with so much embroidery work the wool was barely visible. Last was the deep green cloak emblazoned with the royal red snowboar crowed with a circlet of willow leaves and encircled by a barrier of stylized ice. 

Loki donned every piece of his jewelry to show his rank. Necklaces of shell and carved and dyed bone, of emerald and amber from the southern mines and one of golden links and an enameled medallion circled his neck. Thin gold hoops hung from his ears and more beads were woven in his hair. A pair of obsidian daggers with elaborately scrimshawed whale tooth hafts were thrust in his belt. He looked in his mirror as he fastened the broach pin, in the shape of a musk oxen pinning the cloak together. Loki stopped by his son’s room to kiss Sleipnir good bye. The late night and a sleeping draught had insured the exchange would be over, and he and Thor gone before Sleipnir awoke. 

They met next to the Bifrost circle burned into the ground outside of the ruins of Old Utgard. The day was surprisingly mild and the earth was bare of its shroud of ice and dusted with tiny green plants. If not for the wind Loki would have been sweating in the heavy layers. He stood between his brothers, and Thor, dressed in his armor, between two of Býleistr’s guards. Most of New Utgard’s citizens were in attendance along with the Jarls, though they kept back behind the barrier of Old Utgard’s crumbling walls. Tyr was not in attendance, they hadn’t expected him. A group of Einherjar flanked two women, one of whom Loki recognized as Sif, the other unfamiliar to him. She was dressed in white and blue armor and carried a sword that even though sheathed, glowed with power. As the Jötnar varied from a light sky blue to the deepest indigo, so did the Aesir, from pale pink to shining ebony. This unknown woman was a warm shade of brown and she carried herself as one used to command. She glared at Loki with unconcealed animosity.

Glinor and Hallfridr stepped forward carrying two boxes. To Loki’s surprise they came not to him, but to Thor. 

“Where is your hammer, Prince Thor?” the woman in white asked. 

“On the plain outside of Torsborg, Brunnhilde.”

“Then summon it, for it must be brought to King Tyr.”

Býleistr tightened his grip on Gungnir but said nothing. 

Thor shrugged, raised his hand and in a few moments, with the whistling of her own wind Mjölnir slapped into his palm. His guards tensed, but Thor said.

“Do not be alarmed. Never again will she be used in an unjust cause.”

The dwarf opened the larger of the boxes and set it on the ground. It was empty. 

“Place Mjölnir inside.” Brunnhilde said. 

Her hand was on her sword and Loki was beginning to wonder why the Prince should be disarmed.

“Why should I, Tyrsdottir?”

“Because it is the command of your king." Brunnehilde said.

Thor, this is difficult enough," Sif added. "Please, do not make it harder.”

Thor frowned and for a moment Loki thought he was going to start a fight. But then he sighed and placed the hammer into the box. Glinor snapped the lid shut and to Thor’s amazement picked up the box and returned it to Brunnhilde. Now Glinor approached the three brothers, Hallfridr beside her. The smaller box was opened. Helblindi carefully looked over the golden bracelets. He nodded and turned to Loki.

“They are only to bind your magic Loki, and to ensure you can survive the heat of Asgard. No other spell has or can be set on them.”

Hallfridr picked up the bracelets. “Please bare your wrists, Prince Loki.”

Her tone was flat but not insulting. Loki pushed back the sleeves of the tunic and steadied himself. The bracelets snapped shut around his wrists.

Loki went blind and deaf. The world faded into grey and his knees buckled. The ground trembled and bucked under his feet and if not for Helblindi’s grasping his armhe would have fallen. Loki had thought binding his magic would be the same as when he was mage sick. It was not. Mage sickness was an aching wound to be healed. This was as if his legs and arms were gone.

Loki’s vision cleared, his hearing returned. But the world was dull and flat. All around him people, Jötnar and Aesir, were climbing to their feet. There had been an earthquake, coincidental and brief. Helblindi asked him,

“Loki are you all right?”

Loki bit back a laugh that would have gone into hysterics and turned to answer his brother. He froze. Helblindi was dead. Loki turned his head, Býleistr was dead too. Their guards, the Aesir guards, the women, the dwarf, all dead. The people watching from the old city walls were a collection of cadavers. Loki looked last at Thor and even his beloved was lifeless. 

“No, NO! Norns no!” He cried.

Helblindi’s corpse shook him. “Loki what’s wrong?”

“You’re dead! Everyone is dead!” He looked down at his own hands, held them up and turned them over. “I’m dead!” He said in terror.

“What did you do to him?” Býleistr shouted at Glinor. 

“Nothing that was not in the contract. He’s only confused. He’ll adjust.”

“Confused? He’s hallucinating.” Helblindi said. “No spell was to affect his mind!”

“Nor has it. It is simply that Prince Loki can no longer see the seidr that flows through all life.” Glinor said. “He seems a smart boy. He’ll catch on eventually.”

Loki was taking slow breaths trying to get the panic under control. What the dwarf said made sense. That didn’t make it any less horrible.

“Can we get this over with?” Sif said.

Loki nodded and straightened up. “I am fine. The experience was not as I expected.”

He wasn’t fine. He was afraid and disorientated and felt as if he was going to vomit. But he’d already shown weakness to these enemies and he wasn’t about to collapse at their feet.

“Very well.” Brunnhilde said. She read from a gold embossed paper. “In exchange for the surrender of Thor Odinson and the Jötunn sorcerer Loki Laufeyjarson to Asgard, all hostilities between the Jötnar and the Aesir are now ended. After the royal lines of Asgard and Jötunheim are united in marriage, the Casket of Winters shall be returned to the king of Jötunheim, Býleistr Laufeyson.”

“The wedding shall take place before the sun sets on this day.” Býleistr said, blocking a potential loophole “and the Casket of Winters returned before the moon rises.”

“It shall take place as soon as we are within the confined of Asgard’s castle. All is in readiness.” 

Brunnhilde curled her lip at Loki, so obvious was her disdain.

“Then let us be on our way.” Loki said with a sneer, covering his vulnerability with anger. 

He was glad he’d said his goodbyes earlier. He could hardly stand to feel Helblindi’s hand on his shoulder with his distorted senses. Looking at his brothers was like seeing a horrendous prophecy of their doom.

He walked forward into the runic circle and stood beside Brunnhilde. Thor followed and Sif and the Einherjar took their place around them. 

“Heimdall open the Bifrost!” Brunnhilde shouted, and Jötunheim disappeared in a blurring racing rainbow of light and howling wind.

The slam of the ground under his feet and the sudden jolt as they arrived inside the golden dome, sent the contents of Loki’s stomach lurching up his throat. He fought it back down, the taste vile in his mouth and his head whirling, as his eyes tried to make sense of what he was seeing. 

There was King Tyr, receiving the box which held Mjölnir from Glinor. Behind the King, Thor stood encircled by more Einherjar. Sif turned toward him with something that glittered in her hands. There was a scuffle, Thor cried out in anger and Loki found himself being born by his guards away from the source of the fray. Loki tried to shove the men away only to feel the edge of a sword at his throat. The brief fight was over before Loki could comprehend what had happened. He stood panting, his ornamental daggers in his hands. 

“What is this treachery?” Loki snarled. 

As the Einherjar stepped away he could see Thor in chains and shackles, a muzzle over his mouth. His beloved swayed on his feet and seemed almost too weak to stand. Sif was shaking her head and saying something too soft for Loki to hear. Tears glittered on her cheeks.

“Loki Laufeyjarson, do you mean to violate the treaty?” Tyr boomed facing Loki. 

“I’m not the one going back on my word. Why is the Prince bond like a criminal?”

“Thor is no Prince, for King Odin disowned him. He is to be held for trial on charges of treason and colluding with the enemy.”

“Then the treaty was a lie, the promise of an alliance was no more than a ruse to get me into your hands. Know you not the other realms will rise against you? Asgard will fall when your deceit is exposed.”

“The treaty will stand. It was written in good faith. Once you marry the heir to the throne of Asgard, the Casket will be returned. So I say again, do you mean to violate the treaty.”

“Shall I marry a man imprisoned, or condemned to death?”

“Thor is not my heir.” Tyr growled. “Do you think me fool enough to name a man under the influence of a Jötunn sorcerer to rule Asgard? It is my daughter who will rule after me. Brunnhilde is the heir to the throne of Asgard. I ask you one last time, Loki Laufeyjarson, do you mean to violate this treaty and allow your world to fall to ruin?”

Loki could not turn his head to meet Thor’s eyes. In a way it helped that all around him felt like the dead. He was in hel now, and it was fitting to be surrounded by the judging faces of his enemies. Ice crept around his heart. Let it be dead also, Loki thought. He raised his chin and looked down on Tyr.

“No King Tyr, I shall not violate the treaty.” Loki said, his voice cool and regal. “I consent to marry the Princess Brunnhilde Tyrsdottir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me, just because I'm an evil bastard. I've had this planned all along. Thor would never consider Brunnhilde a possible candidate for the throne, because Asgard is so patriarchal and of course he sees himself in the role of Asgard's future king. But there is no law against a queen ruling, only custom.  
> Notes: Loki is lying to Helblindi about nailing Thor. If he had he wouldn't be bragging about it. Hel knows this. Býleistr is called Laufyson because Laufey is his father. Normally he'd be called Farbutijarson, but because he's heir to the throne through Laufey, he uses the patronymic.  
> If there are typo's I'll catch them later when my brain has recovered.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Asgard. Some interaction between the bride and groom.

From the corner of his eye he saw Thor fall back as if from a blow. Loki dared not react. They were in a deadly game and any emotion could be a weapon against them.

Loki said in a smooth voice as Thor was led away. “Treason seems a harsh charge.”

Tyr countered. “You think to influence me to mercy?”

“Why should I bother? He was a useful tool while he lasted. What need have I for a disgraced ex-Prince? Let us not cover the truth with convenient lies. It matters little to me which of your court I am to wed. As long as the Casket of Winters returns to Jötunheim you could marry me to a drooling crone.”

“It is said the Jötnar have no hearts. I see that saying is true.”

Loki tilted his head. “Love is for fools and children. We are neither, King Tyr. We do as we must to better our people. I’m sure had you the man power, you would have slaughtered all the Jötnar from the youngest born to the oldest dotard."

“It is a wonder Thor didn’t see through you from the start.”

Ah, Loki thought, here is my chance.

“It is not as though he had much choice.” Loki twisted the bracelets and smirked at Tyr.

The King paused as his guard mounted the waiting horses, one foot in the stirrup.

“So it is foul magic that has warped my nephew’s mind. I had suspected as much.” He pulled himself into the saddle and jerked the horse around. “Play with those as much as you wish.” He called back over his shoulder. “Even you cannot overcome the spell craft of the Dwarves.”

Loki gave a shrug as if he didn’t care.

It was Brunnhilde who took charge of him and dismissed the small contingent of remaining Einherjar. She led him into a strange boat that hovered in the air beside the Bifrost bridge. Loki flopped down, meaning to overstate his exhaustion, but in truth there was no need. With Tyr gone, the surge of energy that had kept him on his feet melted like frost before a fire. He leaned back and closed his eyes as she went to the controls and started the boat moving across the sky toward the palace.

“So you are to be my wife,” he stated, “and after, Queen of Asgard. Are you angered or overjoyed that you shall replace your cousin on the throne?”

“Be silent Jötunn. I have no desire to banter words with the likes of you.”

“So harsh a welcome for one with whom you will share the rest of your life.” Loki opened one eye.

“This is a marriage in name alone. I have no intention of sharing my life with you. I will do my duty to my King and nothing more.”

Loki thought it strange that she referred to her father by his title of King. Was it because she was angry at him? She had as little enthusiasm for this marriage as he did. But her disdain annoyed him and he decided to needle her.

“You are quite confident for such a small person. I wonder, if you should fall from this height, would you survive?”

She was fast. So fast that Loki barely had time to draw his dagger and none to rise from the seat, before she was on him. They froze, staring into each other’s eyes. She held a steel bladed knife to his throat, and though he gripped her arm he could not budge it. With his left hand his ceremonial obsidian blade was pressed into the narrow gap under her arm. Each was a death blow. 

Her eyes narrowed.

“Not bad Lackey.” She said and lowered the knife from his throat. He pulled his blade away. “Just not good enough.” 

Loki felt a slight pressure on his thigh and realized she had a second knife in her other hand positioned to sever his femoral artery.

“I think we have established you are capable of defending yourself. Now shall we see if you are quick enough to keep us from crashing into the palace?”

She glanced up and sprang away to the controls. Loki thought of attacking her during the second of inattention, to win back some of his self-esteem. It wasn’t worth the prospect of imminent death. Brunnhilde slowed the craft and brought it to a halt high up on the palace wall. The landing platform, Loki noted, was guarded, though an attack a thousand feet in the air seemed unlikely. As they stepped into the palace itself, two woman clothed in armor similar to Brunnhilde’s, but less elaborate, fell in beside them. Loki watched them from the corner of his eyes. They moved like trained warriors and even the layered plate and mail couldn’t conceal the muscle that was packed on their frames. They were no ornamental guard but the real soldiers. He wondered why they hadn’t been at the battle.

“I realize you said we were to be married as soon as we arrived,” Loki said, “however this has been a trying morning. I wonder if I may have a few moments alone to compose myself?”

Brunnhilde gave him a suspicious glance. 

“You will have time to bathe and put on proper clothing, before the ceremony.”

Loki’s chin snapped up and his eyes blazed with anger.

“I have no intention of dressing up like one of your kind. I am a Prince of Jötunheim and my attire reflects my rank. I have no need of a bath for I bathed this morning.”

She wrinkled her nose.

“So Jötnar normally smell like that?” 

Loki bit back his reply, remembering in time Býleistr’s words that he was to represent the Jötnar here. He’d got off to a rough start, but he’d known he wasn’t going to win over Tyr. He needed to try harder with Brunnhilde, he’d annoyed her enough. A remark about the stench of the Aesir would not placate her. Though he found their odor rank. The smell had been bearable in the open dome of the bifrost, were he’d been too distracted by the horrible barrage of events to pay attention to a petty annoyance. But here in the confines of the palace the stink was everywhere. Musky, meaty and overwhelming, it made the place even more alien. He’d been breathing though his mouth to keep his already roiled stomach under control. 

“If the scent I wear is not to your liking, I will take into consideration your suggestions after we are wed.” 

That should be sufficiently mollifying without him losing face. He needed allies here if he was to save Thor, and wrench some kind of victory out of this mess.

One of the women muffled a laugh. 

“So Jotun’s men wear perfume?” Brunnhilde asked in a way that said it was not something Aesir do.

Loki wanted to turn around and shake her. Was all of Asgard so ignorant? She'd be enlightened to his true nature soon enough.

“Jötnar wear scent for important occasions or to please a mate. But what is attractive to one person may not be to another. You are not whom I thought to marry.” Loki took a slow breath to clarify his thoughts before continuing. “What is to happen to the ex-prince?”

“Why? Do you think to reclaim him as your puppet?”

“He’s hardly of use to me now.” Loki said, not denying the accusation. “I merely wished to know if he would be a danger. He’s undoubtedly upset at his unexpected dispossession and my choice to accept the, shall we say, last minute revisions.”

“Thor won’t be a danger. If he’s not cleared of treason, he’ll be dead. If he is, he’ll be banished. Either way he will no longer be around to cause trouble.”

Loki felt like he would faint at the mention of Thor’s possible death. Would Tyr execute his own nephew? He forced the thought from his mind. He’d planted a seed of doubt in the King's mind that Thor had been coerced. Now he needed to know the particulars of the trial to find a way to save his beloved.

“How could he possibly be cleared of treason? Even though I could not…” Loki paused as if searching for the correct word, “convince him to fight against your soldiers, he did impede their attack.” 

There was another seed to increase the doubt that Thor’s actions were of his own will.

“King Tyr is not a tyrant. My cousin shall first be inspected by our seidr masters for any spell that may have been cast to twist his will.”

“Ah.” said Loki and let his shoulders visibly relax, and a smug little smile play about his mouth. “They will find nothing. Then he will be executed.”

“Then he will be tried, and his punishment decided by the King.”

“This will all take place quickly, I hope?”

Brunnhilde stopped abruptly and didn't answer. 

“Here are your quarters. You will be called for within the hour. The Valkyries will see you are undisturbed.”

Loki got the unspoken message. His guards were here to make sure he didn't try to escape as well. He bowed to the Princess and went into the room, closing the door behind him. Though he longed to burst into tears of fear and frustration the moment he was inside, he knew that there was no privacy to be had in Asgard. Their watcher would keep his eyes on Loki for any hint of misbehavior. Even here he must continue the charade.

The room was huge, twice the size of his old quarters with walls even taller. There were thick, though plain colored rugs on the floor, and several chairs, some small tables even an entire desk made of wood. While he knew lumber was not a scarce resource in the other realms, to see it used for the most mundane of objects was shocking. On the other side of the room were two other large doors. Loki pushed them open and found a bathing room with a tub big enough to swim in. There was a private alcove for his more mundane needs. He took a moment to wash his face, rinse out his mouth and clean his teeth as best he could. There were no willow bush twigs nor wintergreen leaves to be found and he made use of a small washcloth. 

The second door led to another room which featured a large bed and an oversized wardrobe where his outer clothing was stored. His clothes barely filled a quarter of the space. He ignored the Aesir clothing hung outside the wardrobe, and the stiff boots at the side of the bed. The clothing he was supposed to wear to his wedding. The stuff was a plain pale shiny cream without a hint of decoration. Flimsy silk of some sort. Loki thought it horribly ugly. 

His few personal items, his brush and his lotions and perfume, salves and soaps were laid out on the dresser which held his undergarments and night clothes. The books and scrolls he couldn’t bear to part with, filled one shelf in a bookcase. Histories and a collection of fables as well as several on on the biology and geography of the nine realms. The rest were books of poetry. There was nothing on magic. He wasn’t fool enough to torture himself with what he could not have. 

Loki’s mind worked as he wandered the space. Thor was too honest to deny his own actions. And if he thought Loki had truly turned on him? Loki didn’t know. Thor might allow himself to be tried and executed out of a mistaken sense of honor and outrage at Loki’s presumed betrayal. Thor’s banishment didn’t bother him. Frigga had tracked her son down once before, even when he was hidden in Jötunheim. Loki didn’t doubt she’d be able to do it again. The problem was, how could he convince Thor to lie, so he would be sent away from Asgard? Loki knew he could do little for his own plight but he had to get his beloved to safety. 

He needed to get word to Thor. He needed an ally. Thor’s friends? The only one he’d seen so far was Sif and she’d betrayed him. He replayed the scene in his mind.

It was her tears that decided Loki. She was close enough for Thor to trust her. One of the four companions who had accompanied Thor into Jötunheim and fought at his side. She had been smart enough to stop fighting once they were captured. That she had a part in subduing Thor also meant she was trusted by Tyr. The tears told of her regret. Loki wondered how Tyr had convinced her to help. Had he appealed to her loyalty to Asgard? Or did she believe that Thor was better taken without a fight that could harm him, or worsen his position if he killed his own people? She had glared at Loki with a hatred so fierce it he believed it born of love. She was the key then. Now it only remained to get the message to her. Loki hoped an opportunity would arise and he needed to be prepared.

Loki wandered back into the bedroom and took down one of his books, a history of Utgard that he’d added several notations to already. He sat at the desk turned to the chapter on the fall of the city and began to read. He added a few notes to the margins and tucked the pen behind his ear after each notation, looking for all the world like a man bored and killing time. If he was being watched he’d put on a show. He shifted on his chair a few time then abruptly got up and strode into the bathroom alcove, tucking the book into his tunic halfway there. He was betting that even a studious watcher would not want to see him relieving himself. Nonetheless, once seated he was quick to slice out an end page, scrawl his message, and slip the paper inside his tunic. He continued the ruse to its natural conclusion and returned to the desk where he read and wrote until there was a brief knock and the door opened. He left the book laying open on the desk, put down the pen, straightened his tunic and left his room.

The time in his room had allowed him to adjust somewhat to his magic blind state. It was still nightmarish, but the urge to scream had died along with the nausea. He brain was slowly coming to accept that he was not surrounded by the living dead. It was however difficult to walk though long corridors and ride down an open elevator to a gigantic chamber which had been built for the sole purpose of impressing. He was on display for the thousands of Aesir gathered here in their shining silks and satins, their gold and silver and gem studded jewelry. The Einherjar stood like statues in their gleaming armor with their steel swords polished to a mirror like finish. Tyr sat in the throne of Asgard, a tall regal man in pearlescent armor with a cloak of rich black fur so dark it was like a piece of the night sky in the golden setting. Brunnhilde waited on one side. Her armor exchanged for a dress of purest white glittering with diamonds and trimmed with brilliant sapphires.

It was a show of wealth and power and meant to make him feel small and shabby in his handspun woolen clothing. It might have cowed anyone else, but Loki knew whose hands had embroidered every leaf and swirl, every interlocked coil and stylized animal. Knew who had worked through the few spare hours of the dark winter’s days while his sons talked and argued, gamed and sang and worked on their own projects or slept in famine born weariness. 

Loki strode between his flanking guards his head held high, the arrogance of a Prince in his every step. His garments were more precious than any the Aesir could boast, for his had been ornamented by the hands of a King. Wrapped from heel to throat in proof of his father’s love, Loki stood before the multitude and waited for the ceremony to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. It seems the wedding is a go.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Royal Wedding! Just what you were waiting for. Cue cupids and doves. Or not.

An Aesir stepped up beside Loki and in a low voice explained that he was there to prompt him through the ceremony. As a woman took her place beside the bride Loki assumed it was a matter of course for such things. It had begun with Tyr asking each of them if they understood the scared contract of marriage. Loki said he did, though is all honesty it seem a barbaric custom to him. Brunnhilde stated her agreement rather louder than necessary, which caused Loki to gaze at her speculatively. The next part was the hand binding and something that caused a bit of a stir as there seemed to be confusion as to how they were to stand before the Throne. After a change of places, Loki realized what had caused it. For next their wrists were bound together, his right and her left to signal his dependence on her. 

Traditionally it was the woman’s right hand that was bound, but Tyr was not allowing even the slightest idea, that Loki would be in charge of this marriage. He was to be prince consort, not king. Loki cracked a small smile. He was ambidextrous, only slightly favoring his left hand. In trying to make Loki feel helpless, they'd only displayed their ignorance of him. His suspicions about his bride were confirmed when she swayed gently on her feet. She reeked of alcohol and had evidently spent her hour drinking.

Next was a long meandering speech by an official that went over the treaty with Jötunheim in excruciating detail. Then Tyr stood up and poured wine over their clasped hands. Loki thought that was to be it, but no, the King had to give another speech about the glorious future to come from uniting their worlds. Then yet another person, a woman this time, read a sonnet about the honor and joy of marriage, quite a good one Loki had to admit, and he would have enjoyed reading it were seated with his feet up and a glass of beer in his hand. Not standing on his feet tired from a night without sleep, emotionally exhausted and fighting despair, and sick from losing his magic. It didn’t help that Brunnhilde kept taking sips from a flask her prompter was holding and leaning more and more of her weight on Loki’s shoulder. He wondered if it was possible that they would get through the endless ritual before one or both of them collapsed.

The sonnet was followed by a blessing for children, during which Brunnhilde dug her nails into the back of Loki’s hand. He was irked enough to return the gesture and she stopped. Then the Jarls came forward, one at a time to pledge their support to the couple and each of them had to make a speech extolling the beauty of the bride and the bridegroom’s… at that point the speech usually broke down in a general wish for a prosperous future. Finally the presentations were over and they turned again to face King Tyr.

They were both asked to swear to support Asgard and protect the nine realms. Loki thought on Býleistr’s words. “It is to Asgard you must turn your thoughts.” It would make little difference to his people which royal cousin Loki had married. His duty was to secure the Casket for his people first, keep his spouse content second,(something he had little hope of accomplishing) show the Aesir that the Jötnar were not monsters, but people of honor third, and lastly provide heirs for Asgard’s throne. Nowhere was his own happiness mentioned. He bowed his head and gave his word.

Tyr pronounced them married and Loki thought the hours long torment was over. He was wrong. Still tied hand to hand they led the way to the feasting room. Only one short speech later and the meal began. They had to feed each other the first few bites and for once Brunnhilde wasn’t being difficult. Only then was the ribbon around their wrists cut. (Not untied, for that too seemed to hold some obscure significance.) Loki was famished and even though the food was unfamiliar he made good use of it. He’d had no stomach for breakfast before leaving Jötunheim and there hadn’t been any food in his rooms even if he had been in a state to eat. He sipped at the mead and the wine, which was much better than his brother’s poor efforts though very stong. He decided to stick with beer, however it was pale and bland with an undertone of disgusting sweetness, instead of the rich dark bitter brew he was used to. And even it was effecting his sobriety. The woman serving their table looked scandalize when he asked for water, but she brought it anyway, perhaps seeing the need for the groom to be clearheaded, as the bride was guzzling mead at an alarming rate.

Loki scanned the room looking for Sif and finally spotted her towards the back at a table with the slender blond man who had accompanied Thor to Jötunheim. Fandral, Loki recalled. One of his legs was in a brace and he was resting it on an adjacent chair, silent testimony that he was still healing from his injuries. Neither was happy, though they were doing their best to hide it, sharing smile with their fellows and only trading dark looks when they thought themselves unobserved. Loki wondered how he could get to her, when one of the nobles stood and started to tell a tale. The room quieted and Loki began to hope. The noble was followed by another and yet another. There was a romantic theme to the stories, some happy, a few tragic. On several occasions the Jötnar were the villains of the piece, but Loki overlooked this slander. It was hardly a surprise. The Aesir were the evil ones in his people’s stories. When the present tale spinner took his seat to rousing applause, Loki stood and addressed the crowd. He was used to getting the attention of group of noisy giants and his voice projected to the back of the room.

“Men and women of Aesir, I have enjoyed these stories of your people and would share with you one of my own culture.” 

He ignored Tyr’s scowl and the negative head shake of his prompter. In the face of the Aesir’s confusion he added.

“I see this is not the tradition for the groom to provide entertainment, but for the sake of a better understanding between our realms, I beg that you indulge me. It is, after all, my wedding day.”

He gave them his most gracious bow and softest smile. A tilt of his head shifted their gaze to his bleary eyed wife.

“Why should I care?” Brunnhilde slurred at those judging looks. “Let the bastard run his mouth.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Loki said in a voice dripping with concern and compassion. 

Her reply was a disgusted sound and a grasp for another mug.

Loki gave her a polite nod, stepped from behind the table and moved to the center of the room. He was drawing on desperation and little else, but storytelling was something he was good at. Even without the enhancements of his magic he could keep an audience enthralled as he acted out the various characters with voice and posture. The tragedy of Skaldi and Njord was a good tale and it was perfect for this setting. A cross realm marriage uniting two royal houses. Misunderstandings and longing and a tragic ending. Even a cautionary moral. He’d use Jötnar kennings for their names, no sense in stirring up resentment against the Vanir, and gendered pronouns so the audience could relate.

Loki moved about the room as he told the story of the Winter Witch and her love for the Lord of the Sea. How they were attracted by their mutual wildness and love of desolate places. For their courtship on the spring tundra Loki painted a picture of Jötunheim as it once was, burgeoning with life that reflected the growing love of the two protagonists. Showing the Aesir that it had not always been the barren land they had seen. At times he became Skaldi and embodied a feminine version of the hunter, at other times he took on the masculine role of Njord and spoke with the deeper voice of the Sea Lord. 

Loki enacted the disastrous summer in the Sea Lord’s home, (though he left Njord’s children out of the tale) and their fragile reconciliation in the autumn on Asgard’s beautiful hills. (It had been Alfheim in the original tale but Loki was not above tweaking a story to fit his listeners.) He had just started the tragic finale when he “accidently” tripped over Fandral’s out stretched leg.

Sif was on her feet in a flash as her friend bent over and clutched his thigh. Loki loudly offered his apologies to Fandral, blaming himself for his lack of attention. Fandral flustered out a strangled acceptance though his face was twisted with pain. Sif hovered over her friend and hissed a threat at Loki under the sound of the rising voices of the crowd. Loki made as if to shove her away and answered her threat with a sneered, “He thought you a friend!” and a whisper so soft Sif almost missed it. “If you would have him live, give him this.” He twisted away from the pair brushing Sif’s hand as he slipped the folded note into her palm. 

She was quick to close her hand around the note and cleaver enough to not look at it.

Loki raised his hands, assured the crowd all was well. When they settled back down he and went on to reenact the scene of the two lover’s last bitter fight in the dark of Jötunheim’s brutal winter. The story finished with the legend that the Winter Witch still haunted the northern glaciers and the lonely sound of her hunting horn could be heard in the arctic wind, while the Sea Lord’s tears of longing were the reason for the salt of the sea.

Loki returned to the high table for the traditional rhetorical question and answer part of Jötnar storytelling. He paused before he asked the Aesir what was the moral to this tale. He didn’t need the thoughtless reply “They were too different and should have married their own kind.” to undermine his present position. Instead gave them the answer himself.

“The Winter Witch and the Sea Lord loved only with their hearts and fought only with their spirits. Had they used their minds to love they would have taken their romance slower and not been so quick to sacrifice themselves for the other’s sake. They allowed passion to rule, which led to resentment and foolish decisions. Had they fought with understanding and compassion they could have compromised their desires and met halfway instead of destroying their relationship.”

Loki’s analysis was met with many blank faces and only a few nods of understanding. He bowed and retook his seat, only to find Brunnhilde staring at him with an incomprehensible expression. Loki shrugged and reached for a glass of mead as another man rose to his feet and began speaking. There was little point in his remaining sober and he needed the numbness. Sif he saw, had neither glanced at his note nor discarded it. He thanked the Norns for her intelligence. If he’d gambled right, Thor would stand a chance at redemption in his people’s eyes. Loki prayed that he would take it. 

The afternoon stretched on stories were followed by feats of juggling and sleight of hand, then music. At some point the women, except for his bride and her assistant had left the room. Loki was nudged awake periodically, and when he was he downed another glass of mead. Brunnhilde was somehow still in a state of wavering consciousness, though her alcohol intake had slowed not at all. Loki was in awe of her ability to drink copiously and maintain at least a grip, however loose, on reality.

Loki was roused one last time to hear those of the assembly still capable of it singing together. Brunnhilde was gone along with the other woman, so was King Tyr. Loki liked singing and felt a warm comradery with the blurred smiling faces. He joined in the song though the words were unaccountably rude. This earned him approving laughter. He found himself pulled to his feet and half supported, half carried out of the hall and up staircase after staircase. The crowd thinned as they ascended and he was accompanied only a couple dozen of his more stalwart new friends when they arrived at the door to his quarters. There they were attacked by a contingent of women wielding broom and mops and the men turned away until only Loki was left leaning drunkenly against the door and trying to remember how the handle worked.

The valiant ladies came to his rescue, opening the door, bringing him inside and divesting him of all but his undergarments as he unsuccessfully tried to fend them off without actually hurting them.

It was in this state of undress he was led into the bedroom only to meet the vicious glare of his bride. Brunnhilde sat propped up on one side of the bed, clothed in a transparent nightgown with a wreath of flowers on her head. Before Loki could withdraw he was again overwhelmed by laughing women, his under tunic pulled off and with only his undershorts for modesty shoved into the bed. To his relief the fluttering flock retreated out of the bedroom and shut the doors behind them. He heard the outer doors close a moment later. He’d been afraid that they would be required to perform before an audience. 

Brunnhilde stared at Loki for a moment then said.

“We might as well get it over with.”

Loki blinked in disbelief. He scooted down until his head was on the pillow and turned his back on her.

“Fuck that.” he said and promptly passed out.

******

Thor was pacing his brightly lit cell, not in agitation but in a heavy footed numb misery. He’d been a fool, blind to the consequences of his own actions and blind to Loki’s words. He had not really believed in the Jötunn’s concerns, nor when Loki had said he would always put his own people before Thor. That Tyr had named Brunnhilde as his heir was beyond shocking. While she was the captain of the few remaining Valkyries, and it was true she was intelligent, an excellent strategist and a warrior to rival Thor, she was a woman. No woman ever held the Throne save as a place keeper for her husband or son. Was Tyr thinking to rule Asgard long enough for her to birth and raise an heir? Or did he truly mean for her to rule on her own. Thor shook his head in confusion. Asgard would over throw the royal family before they let Loki rule. For his one fear that he would be forced into the shape of an Aesir woman had not come true. He still retained his normal Jötunn shape and with the bracelets in place he could not alter that form even had he wished to. 

Thinking about that brought Loki’s actions in the dome back to Thor’s mind. How his initial objection to Thor’s capture had dissipated as soon as he understood the treaty was not put aside. He’d not even spared Thor a glance when Tyr explained that Brunnhilde was now taking Thor’s place at his side. Loki had instead readily agreed to the marriage, as though everything between them mattered not the slightest. All he’d said as Thor was led away was that the charge against him was harsh.  
Thor didn’t that it was. Nothing mattered to him. His father was dead, his mother sequestered on Vanaheim, his friends hiding or turned betrayer. And Loki gone to be wed to another. Why bother to fight the charges. The sooner it was over the quicker he could be forgotten and the stain of his defense of Jötunheim scrubbed from the royal archives. Perhaps his death would be ascribed as a casualty of the battle. 

Someone was outside his cell. Thor stooped his plodding and lifted his head. Sif stood at the window of his cell. He turned away. Part of him, the reasonable part, knew she had acted to try to salvage what she could from a terrible situation. After she’d clicked on the manacles binding him she’d wept, begging him to understand, begging him to fight to free himself from Loki’s evil influence. But he couldn’t forget she had known what would happen when she’d accompanied Brunnhilde to Jötunheim, nor that it was she who urged him to place Mjölnir into the dwarf’s control.

“I have no wish to speak to you.”

“Please my Prince, I wish only a moment of your time.”

“I am no one’s prince now and my time is limited.”

“Thor, for the sake of the friendship we once shared, at least look at me.”

Thor turned to glare at her where she stood leaning against the transparent wall of his cell. There was something in her hand that she pressed to the glass. It was a scrap of paper and on it, in a loose scrawl he’d never seen before, were the words,

“I won the snowball fight.” 

Thor’s heart leapt.

Sif was talking, but Thor realized she was only saying what she’d said before in the dome. He was far more interested in the paper she surreptitiously was unfolding. He nodded to her to continue, and stepped closer. It contained a poem in the same hand.

Will thou deny me my love, for love’s sake?  
As I must deny thee for other’s sake.  
Rather than go to death’s cold embrace,  
Return to the arms that held you first.  
Lay thou claim to lies and enchanting wiles  
To snares woven of blinding deceit.  
For breath I cannot draw, if you breathe not,  
Nor live free whilst you struggle in chains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki is a sneaky bastard.  
> To my readers, I been slow on replying to comments because I've been writing like a demon the last few days, and didn't want to lose the momentum.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Thor does some soul searching.

Someone was shaking Loki’s shoulder and he was under the impression that it had been going on for some time. He batted at the arm and mumbled,

“Leave me… little more… not time yet…”

His head hurt horribly and he tried to burrow back into sleep.

“Wake up Lackey!” said an unfamiliar voice.

Loki blinked his eyes open and hissed as the lamp light stabbed into his brain. He put his hand over his eyes, reached for his seidr and was answered by…nothing. He sat bolt upright in panic and frantically looked about the overly bright room. Memories came pouring back in. Being stripped of his seidr, Thor’s capture. The plan and the wedding. The drunken trip upstairs. The person standing next to the bed came into focus. Brunnhilde. Dressed in a thick robe that fell to her feet. Her bare feet.

A brief memory of her in his bed flashed across his mind.

“Ymir’s balls!” Loki cried, pulling the blankets up around himself. “Did I? Did we?”

“Consummate our marriage?” Brunnhilde said.

Loki nodded. 

“What else would we have done? Play cards?” She said sarcastically. “I can’t say I was impressed. On, in and over. Not much for foreplay are you?” 

A sick feeling of shame washed over Loki. It combined with the leftovers of the previous day’s drinking, and his headache in a wave of nausea. He wrapped himself in the top blanket and staggered to the bathroom where he was noisily sick.

Brunnhilde followed him and stood in the doorway. Loki cringed at her vicious tones. “Is that normally how Jötnar treat their wives? Climb on and fuck without a thought for their…”

Even after his stomach was emptied he couldn’t stop the tremors that shook him. He splashed cold water on his face in an effort to control of his shattered emotions. 

“No.” Loki said when he could speak again. His voice was choked with self-loathing. “It is not! We do not. It is an… an abomination!”

“Being a lousy lay is an abomination?”

“What???” Loki said in confusion. “I thought.” Loki’s knees gave out and he abruptly sat on the edge of the tub. “I thought you meant you were unwilling, that I’d forced you.”

“As if you could.” Brunnhilde snorted. "If it makes you feel better, you passed out before anything happened."

Loki blinked at her, not understanding. He put his hands to his aching head. 

“Then why would you say such a thing?” Nothing the Aesir did made sense. "Why lie?"

“To keep you away from me.” Brunnhilde said with a snarl. “Why do you think I’ve not married before now? Do you think I want to be a brood mare?”

“No more than I.” Loki said. “Had I married Thor..." Loki shook his head, there was no sense in thinking of what might have been.

“Except you couldn’t have married him. Fuck an ergi sure, but marry? Never. What would he do for children? There is a reason men can’t marry men.” 

“But I’m not a man.” Loki said. “I am a Jötunn. I could have provided him with children.”

It was Brunnhilde’s turn to look puzzled.

“How could provide him with heirs? If you’ve fathered other children they would not be eligible to inherit.”

“Is all of Asgard so ignorant?” Loki rubbed his eyes. “If you would be kind enough to bring me willow brush tea I will explain it all to you. My head feels like my skull has been split asunder and then tied back together with wet sinew.”

Brunnhilde raised an eyebrow in inquiry, then walked from the bathroom. 

Loki turned on the water in the bath and adjusted it to a comfortable temperature. There was a luxury in having so much fresh water that he could immerse himself whenever he desired. He was used to washing with a basin and cloth in town and scrubbing with snow when he was traveling. As he readied his bath Loki heard a knock on the outer door, and Brunnhilde and another woman in conversation. One of the guards he assumed and hoped the tea arrived quickly. He checked the array of bottles beside the tub and winced, they were all heavily scented and made him feel nauseous. He returned to the bedroom for his own toiletries. Brunnhilde sat on one of the dressing table chairs and combed out her hair, which Loki noticed was damp. She must have done her bathing earlier. 

“Why did you wake me? It is not yet dawn.” He asked. She hadn’t seemed eager for his company before.

“You stink like a drunk and the ceremony for the return of the Casket is in an hour. Before the moon rises was your king’s stipulation. A daily bath is normal for us.” Loki heard the implication it wasn’t for his people.

“I supposed that keeps your Watcher entertained.”

“Heimdall? He looks outward to guard us against our enemies, not inward to intrude on its citizens’ lives.”

“And all of the Aesir are loyal, are they? The golden realm indeed.” Loki said with heavy skepticism.

“If Odin needed spies he had pockets big enough to pay for them, rather than waste Heimdall’s talents on such petty crimes.” She looked over her shoulder at Loki. “For a supposedly skilled sorcerer I’m surprised you haven’t noticed the privacy wards.” 

Brunnhilde pointed her brush at the carving that adorned the top of the door frame. Loki looked expecting to see the soft glow of magic. It was only a design to his seidr blind eyes. 

“You know I have no magic at my disposal.” Loki growled.

“It’s not a magic rune?” Brunnhilde asked. “It’s on the door frames of every private room in the palace. Even the hedge witches carve it when they cast privacy spells on houses in town.”

Loki frowned reexamining the pattern. “No, it’s simply two ptarmigan framing a ground willow, used to symbolize prosperity. The design is archaic.” He wondered why there was Jötnar artwork on the Aesir palace. Something to think about later, for now he had too much on his mind.

Brunnhilde reached over to the bottles Loki was gathering. “Which of these is perfume?”

Loki moved the three small ceramic jars toward her, not wanting to open them, with his head aching as it did. 

“Pick the one you like.” He said, and went back to the bathroom. 

Loki lay back in the tub and washed away the smell of drink and sickness and sweat. Even the cooling spell in the bracelets had not made him comfortable wearing musk ox wool in the warmth of an Asgard summer. He needed lighter clothing, but he balked at donning Aesir fashion. He didn’t want to copy their style, when he was so obviously not one of them. 

He ran the cloth down his leg and washed his foot, the black nails were about due for a trim. He was relieved at keeping his own form. So many things were different here, he didn’t want to see a stranger in the mirror. But perhaps they hadn’t know he was a shapeshifter. He finished with his feet and poured a little shampoo into his hand. The braids had come out with a little tugging and the shaved parts of his scalp were no longer hidden by the complicated weaving. Loki wondered if Brunnhilde would help him redo it. He didn’t want to appear in public half shorn. It was different when he’d gone to visit Thor, with his injuries from the battle half healed. He’d known Thor wouldn’t judge him for his appearance.

Loki gasped as that memory triggered a sudden pain in his heart. His beautiful, exasperating, Aesir lover was lost to him now. He put his hands over his face to hide his tears and took slow breaths as he tried to bring himself under control. Even if the watcher could not see inside the private quarters, Loki didn’t want Brunnhilde to hear him weeping through the door. He’d just damped down his sorrow, when the door swung inward and she stepped inside.

“Catch.” She said and tossed two small stones at him.

Loki dropped the washcloth over his lap and caught the stones partly on instinct. He looked askance at her.

“You put them over where you hurt.”

Loki did and was amazed as the pain first dulled then vanished entirely. He could see the stones glowing with a soft gold light. He moved them to his upset stomach and again they glowed and his belly settled. He held them over his arm experimentally, and the veins in his arm traced a pattern just above on his skin. Held over his chest they showed his heart and lungs and pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Curious Loki moved them over his torso and they created soft golden outlines of his organs and the major arteries, when he brought it over his hips he heard Brunnhilde’s sharp gasp. Loki glanced up. He’d almost forgot she was still standing by the door.

“You have a womb.”

“Yes.” Loki answered. “All Jötnar do.”

“I’ve fought Jötnar, killed several and sometimes, armor gets cut away in a fight. They were men.”

Loki moved the washcloth aside. It seemed the simplest way and they were, after all, married. They would have to consummate this marriage at some point.

“We are not split apart like the Aesir. We are both.”

“Oh.” 

She was staring intently at his groin and Loki felt suddenly uncomfortable and recovered himself with the washcloth. 

“I didn’t mean to shock you.” He said. “It seemed better to show then to tell. I had not noticed there was much difference between your males and my own appearance.” 

“It’s not that.” Brunnhilde said shaking her head and meeting his eyes. 

“Then what?” Loki asked.

She nodded down at the gold outlines still visible over his abdomen. Loki saw a tiny pale reddish glow.

“I think you’re pregnant, Lackey.”

******

Thor sat quietly and contemplated his situation. A couple of weeks ago he would have raged and destroyed the furnishings of his cell. But he’d changed since then. He even understood Tyr’s reasons for jailing him. He had acted against Asgard, even if his intention was to only protect the Jötnar townspeople. Because he held up the invasion, Odin’s army was still in the open when Laufey had attacked. Though his mother and Freyr had the bigger part in the battle Thor’s own actions had caused the deaths of his own people. 

Sif had said he wasn’t to blame. It was Odin who’d made the choice to invade and Loki’s actions that precipitated the entire chain of events. Which circled Thor’s thoughts back to Loki, who was now married to his cousin. Thor probed his emotions and couldn’t find the anger he’d first felt at Loki’s quiescent acceptance to Tyr’s proposal. Loki had told Thor of his fears and Thor had reassured him that everything would be fine. He’d been honest that if he had to choose between his people and Thor, he would choose Jötunheim. Thor had been angry and said things he regretted. But he’d had time to think since they had parted, and knew if he had to pick between Loki and Asgard’s existence, he also would have picked his own people. Neither of them were private persons whose decisions affected only themselves. As much as it hurt Thor, he knew Loki had done the only thing he could. 

Thor sighed. He wasn’t ready to take the throne. He doubted he would ever be. He’d spent the years since Baldur’s death doing as he pleased. Indulging in wine and women and battle without a thought for the consequences, sure of his own power and immunity and the righteousness of his cause. He’d turned from his mother’s nuanced lessons to his father’s simplistic way of thinking. Asgard was perfect, her citizens were the most important people in the nine realms and good and evil was defined by the Allfather. It was easy to be that kind of prince. It won him his father’s praise and the praise of his countrymen. He was looked up to for his battle prowess, for a generosity that cost him nothing, for his position.  
It was impossible to go back to that comforting assurance. 

Thor rubbed his temples. 

His memories of a wise and caring Odin were an unthinking child’s memories of a loved parent. He’d lost his father twice, the illusion of him first, then the death of the man followed so quickly he’d not had time to resolve their relationship. Had he ever even known Odin? Thor recited the prayer for the dead, hoping his father would find some peace in the afterlife.

The poem reminded him of another poem and Loki’s message. Loki loved him. Loki wanted him to live and to blame him for Thor’s actions. He’d asked Thor to lie to save himself. It went against everything Thor was. To let another take the blame for his own actions was dishonorable. Thor was not ashamed of protecting the Jötnar, the shame lay with his father’s unjust war. If he claimed to be the victim of Loki’s magic the Aesir would despise the Jotun sorcerer. To fight as a soldier was considered honorable, but to fight with seidr, a woman’s weapon, was dishonorable. To have compelled Thor against his will with magic was a sin they would never forgive. Loki’s position was difficult enough. Thor knew if he agreed to Loki’s proposal it would be unbearable. He could not, in good conscience allow that.

He also knew, that despite Loki’s words, despite his pain, he wouldn’t do anything to endanger the treaty. He’d left his home and family for the good of Jötunheim. He would not end his own life over the loss of a man he’d known for so little time. 

With that last barrier gone, Thor sighed in a relief. He would tell the truth and attempt to get Tyr to see the justice of his actions. He had little hope of success, but better the hard truth then a convenient lie. There had been too many lies in his life for him to embrace one now. Loki would be angry, and hurt, but Thor had to be true to himself. If he was not, then he would not be the man Loki loved. 

Thor smiled. Loki did love him. He would have never dared to send the message, and by Sif of all people, otherwise. He would put his fate in the hands of the Norns.

******

“No!” Loki said. He dropped the healing stones into the water and rose to his feet, the wash cloth clutched to his groin. “That cannot be. Is this your idea of another joke?”

“What it is, is not my problem.” Brunnhilde said. “My only concern is that you get down to the Bifrost. If you need to get rid of it…” She shook her head as Loki wrapped a towel around his waist. “I’ve helped my warriors do the same. Sooner is always better than later.”

She left and Loki finished drying off, his mind leaping from one possibility to another and none of them good. He couldn’t be pregnant. It was too soon. Even the most skilled of healers could not tell in so short a time. That red glow wasn’t even in his womb yet. It would be better to let it go. He couldn’t afford the complication. And what if it was warborn? The Aesir wouldn’t let it live. To carry a child only to have to give it up to death before its birth, he couldn’t do that. But what if it wasn’t? What if was to become a strong healthy child? His and Thor’s child? Could he give up that chance? When he’d never see his beloved again? 

This was foolish, Loki thought. It was only a fragment of cells. Loki knew that the chances were against it even attaching, much less developing long enough for him to even notice. It had to have happened countless times in the past. This was his heart dreaming of things that were not to be. Never to be. 

He caught back a sob. He could not, he would not fall to pieces now. Not in front of the heartless Aesir he was partnered to. Not when he had to shortly put on a show for his brother. His brother. 

“Oh Helblindi,” Loki whispered. “I want to go home.”

He leaned against the wall and tears streaked down his face. The sobs were harsh, ripped from a heart bearing too much loss. He heard Brunnhilde behind him and took a deep breath trying to choke down the pain. She was silent and he could feel her eyes on him. He wiped his face with the towel. He glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t read her face, so closed was it.

“This isn’t easy for me either.” she said.

Loki turned and spat. His pain unleashing a torrent of furious words.

“How difficult it must be, to be surrounded by your family, your friends, your people, and every one of them sympathetic to your terrible fate. So horrible to have to take a monster, a filthy Jötunn, to your bed. I weep for your pain. You whose father still lives, whose brother is at hand, who still commands your warriors and has all the rank and privileges of your birth. Tell me, did you leave your child in another realm? Did they cut off your sword hand and leave you crippled? Is your lover in danger of his life? Tell me Princess, of all you have lost.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki held it together for a while, but even the strongest can break.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A goal achieved.

Brunnhilde stood quietly for a moment. Her gaze was appraising, neutral. 

“You do love him.” It was a statement not a question.

Loki gave a short nod. Trust the Aesir to focus on the bit that concerned her family. Loki wondered again how she felt about her cousin. Was she jealous of Thor? In love with him? His ignorance of their customs made him feel off balance.

“They why did you agree to this marriage? Does the Casket mean that much to your people's wounded pride? It seems a poor enough weapon now that your brother wields Gungnir.”

“It’s not a weapon, it’s the heart of our world and without it Jötunheim is dying. I consented to save my people. Why princess, did you agree to something you find so distasteful?” His anger had dissipated into an aching weariness.

“Though it is dishonorable to even think such a thing, I’ve seen too many of my Valkyrie sent to Valhalla to wish us in another pointless war.” She said. “It was Tyr’s orders that kept us guarding Asgard, instead of riding to battle. I owe him for that decision and I know what duty is. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement of our own.”

Loki walked past her, fished in his wardrobe for clean clothes and started to dress. She turned her back to give him a modicum of privacy.

“What kind of an arrangement?” Loki donned his undershorts and pants. 

“You are not the only one to have left a lover behind.”

“So you wish to see him.” She is as selfish as all of them, Loki thought. “I can see granting this, provided you likewise grant me a favor.”

“She.” Brunnhilde stated. “What is it you wish?”

“Two things.” Loki said. He wondered about Brunnhilde’s lover. Was there no shame for a woman to be a lover of women? But shame to submit to a man if one was a man? The complexities of these divided people were strange beyond reason. 

“Two for one hardly seems fair.”

“One." Loki said ignoring her protest as he pulled on his socks and boots. "I wish to attend Thor’s trial.”

“You won’t be allowed to speak. You were the enemy he is accused of colluding with.”

“I won’t need to speak. I only need to be seen.” He combed his hair back and decided against braiding it, pulling it over the close cropped area and tying it in place with a ribbon.

“You can attended with me.”

“Two. You guarantee the life of this child I may bear, no matter how it is made.” He decided to skip his under tunic and put on his lightest over tunic. The coarse wool would be uncomfortable on his bare skin, but better then roasting in the heat.

“What do you mean no matter how it is made? Thor isn’t its father?”

“He is, but I may still be under Odin’s curse. The child may be born with…” Loki’s lip twisted with distaste as he used the Aesir word for the warborn. “They may be born misshapen. I will not have my child killed because of that.” He fastened his belt and slipped his daggers into their sheaths. 

Brunnhilde shook her head and Loki thought she might refuse. Her voice was softer when she replied.

“It’s a cruel custom, but only custom. There is no law that prevents such a child from being born. I will keep away those who would pressure you to have the fetus aborted, should that come to pass. ” She tilted her head thinking. “Is Odin’s curse birth defects?”

Loki walked toward the door. Perhaps he’d misjudged this harsh spoken woman. When he nodded in answer to her question she added. 

“Because your world was without its heart. No wonder you were so anxious to get it back.” 

“You’re quicker than your cousin.”

“Thor might be slow to speak, but he thinks things through. That is when he’s not trying use his head as a battering ram.” 

She smiled and Loki recognized a rueful affection toward the prince that he shared.

“You like him.” Loki ventured as she lead the way out of the palace.

“It’s hard not to. He’s annoyingly arrogant...” 

That brought a choked laugh out of Loki. 

“…but he is kind. He cares deeply for people, and not just for his family or friends. He’s quick to anger and equally quick to forgive once his anger passes. He has turned many an enemy into a lifelong friend.”

She gave Loki a glance.

“You aren’t the first to fall for him.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened. He didn’t want to hear about Thor’s previous conquests. 

“Unlike his father, he admits his mistakes.” Brunnhilde continued. “Not that many would point them out to the crown prince.”

“Am I to understand that you were not overawed by his position?”

“Someone had to do it and he didn’t have a sister to keep him in line. You should thank me. Otherwise he’d be completely insufferable.”

“Since I only desire to turn him into a tunnel rat half the time, you have my thanks, Princess.”

“I have a name.”

“As do I.” Loki said. He was damned if he was going to give in first.

“Stubborn bastard aren’t you?”

“I’m known for my tenacity, and since Jötnar do not marry, your insult means nothing to me.”

“Then our marriage means nothing to you as well?”

“We have both engaged in a contractual agreement to keep our realms from war. I will honor that agreement.”

Brunnhilde seemed to relax. “Good. I was afraid you wanted to make this personal.”

“It will have to be somewhat personal. There is the expectation of an heir is there not?”

Brunnhilde cut him off with a shake of her head. 

“We will speak of that later.”

They stepped into the flying craft and glided through the darkness. A thin crescent of a moon hovered above the horizon. They landed at the near end of the rainbow bridge and joined the rest of the Aesir delegation. Loki could see the tall shapes of his own people standing just outside the glowing dome. A contingent of Einherjar were lined up on both sides of the Bifrost, between the two groups. Loki took his place between Brunnhilde and a man who had her same warm brown coloring and shared many of her features. He was holding the hand of a striking woman whose skin was almost the color of the night sky and whose black eyes were. 

“This is my brother Prince Haakon and his wife, Lady Gytha.” Brunnhilde said, “My consort, Prince Loki of Jötunheim.” 

Haakon gave him friendly smile, the first true one he’d seen since arriving. 

“So you are the famous Jötunn sorcerer.” Haakon said. “Welcome to Asgard. We were at Ulfstadd when we got word of the wedding, we only arrived last night. May I extend our congratulations. I hope your marriage will be as happy as ours. How are you finding the golden realm?”

Loki was somewhat overwhelmed by the flood of words. “I have seen little of it as yet. The architecture is impressive.”

“We can take you around this afternoon and show you the city if you like. Glytha is our premier history scholar. She knows everything there is to know about Asgard, don’t you love?”

Glytha smiled at her husband, and Haakon’s beaming face brightened even more.

“Perhaps we should allow the prince time to get settled in first?” She said. Her soft smile to Loki belied any perceived rejection of her husband's offer.

“Yes, well I suppose that will be best." Haakon said. "I have to tell you, prince Loki, I am looking forward to the changes this treaty will bring. I’ve always wanted to see Jötunheim. Land of the ice giants! I’ve heard tales of great hairy elephants twice as large as bilgesnipes, fish the size of boats and wolves as big as horses. It must be a wonderful place to live. Is it true in winter you can walk across the sea itself?”

Loki blinked at the Aesir, the man’s ignorant enthusiasm seemed honest. 

“I…” Loki suddenly didn’t have the heart to dissuade him. “I hope you may visit soon and see for yourself.” 

He was saved from further conversation by the arrival of Tyr and two men carrying a litter. On it was a carved box surrounded by mist. Loki knew it was the Casket of Ancient Winters. To his magic blind eyes it appeared a small thing, easily held in one hand by a Jötunn of normal proportions. He’d imagined it to be bigger even though he’d seen pictures of it since he was a child. There was a cry from his people by the dome and one stated forward only to meet the crossed spears of the Einherjar. That was Helblindi, impetuous to the core. Even this far away he must feel the power of the Casket. Loki envied him.

Tyr led the procession across the bridge and the gathered Einherjar fell in behind as they passed them. The group stopped when they were scarce ten feet from the Jötnar. Loki looked into Helblindi’s face, though his brother, like the contingent of royal guards who accompanied him, had eyes only for the Casket. Tyr drew himself up and Loki prepared for another long winded speech such as he’d endured the day before. 

“As you have kept your half of the treaty, so I keep mine.”

The Aesir King motioned the two litter bearers forward. Helblindi reverently picked up the casket. There was a sigh from the Jötnar that Loki couldn’t help joining in. 

“Let there be peace between our realms.” Tyr said.

“There shall be peace between our realms.” Helblindi confirmed. 

Tyr nodded and called to Heimdall. “Open a path to Jötunheim, I am sure our guests are eager to return home.”

“I would speak with my brother, before I leave.” Helblindi said. 

Loki could see the concern in his eyes. 

“No.” Loki answered before Tyr could say anything. “Our world has waited too long. Go Hel. We can talk another day.”

Helblindi looked as if he was going to protest, but his eyes dropped back to the casket he held in his hands. He nodded.

“Fare well Loki, until we meet again.”

“Fare well Hel.”

With that Helblindi and his guard turned and stepped back inside the dome. Heimdall drove his great sword into the lock and opened the pathway. As the Jötnar were enveloped in the flash of rainbow light Loki caught a glimpse of the icy pillars outside old Utgaard, then the light faded away.

Loki stood frozen as the Aesir turned around and started back to the city. They had succeeded. The Casket of Ancient Winters was back in Jötunheim. His people would live. His world would be healed. There was now peace between the Aesir and Jötnar, in part because of, or in spite of his actions. He was filled with a strange hollow elation. The purpose that had driven him his entire life was fulfilled. He felt empty and impossibly light as if he were floating, drifting up into the breaking dawn.

Slowly Loki became aware of someone tugging on his arm, and a voice calling his name. He blinked and looked into Brunnhilde’s face. Her brows were knitted either in anger or concern, he didn’t know her well enough to tell the difference. They were alone on the Bifrost, save for Heimdall’s unobtrusive presence.

“Do you mean to stand here all morning gaping like a landed fish?”

“I should like to watch the sunrise.” Loki said.

Brunnhilde shook her head, but she turned and stood beside him and took his hand. The truce was not only between our realms, Loki thought. Perhaps he had gained another ally here in Asgard.

Together they watched in silence as the sky lightened with the first pale tints of dawn and the peaks of the soaring towers gleamed golden in the rays of the rising sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Brunnhilde is not a monster, she's had to be hard her whole life and she's not going to cut Loki any slack. He'll have to continue to prove himself. Don't worry I haven't forgotten about Thor. Or Frigga. I needed a clean slate to move on the the next part of this story, where things become more personal and less political.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days leading up to the trial. Thor takes a stand. Loki searches for answers. Brunnhilde has her patience tried.

The sky had tuned from smoky purple, to soft pink, then to a pure blue that reminded Loki of Thor’s beautiful eyes, when Brunnhilde gave his hand a squeeze, and let it go. 

“We should be getting back to the palace.” 

Loki yawned. He was short on sleep and emotionally exhausted.

“Please tell me there are no further ceremonies we must take part in today.”

“No. I wish to meet with my captains this morning to discuss the appointment of their new leader. I’d like the transition to go as smoothly as it can, though considering how little time I’ve had to prepare for my successor it will not be an easy task. But there will be no further official business for a few days. Normally we would have a full month before taking up our duties. However,” she sighed, “things are hardly normal.”

Loki followed her into the craft. He stood beside her to observe how the vessel was piloted. It might come in handy and continued ignorance was not to his taste.

“You will no longer lead the Valkyrie? Does Tyr mean to hand the throne over to you so soon?”

“Norns I hope not.” Brunnhilde said vehemently. 

“Then why?”

“Married women cannot be Valkyrie.”

“Whyever not?” The warrior Volstagg is married.”

“Women take care of the home and raise the children. A little hard to do that if one is off fighting a rebellion in Vanaheim.” 

The craft stopped at the same dock and they disembarked. Brunnhilde spoke to the two Valkyrie and then walked down the hall with Loki. 

“Your mates don’t share in raising the children? Could you not hire a helper to care for them, or another family member? I did. It would not have been safe to take my son with me when he was still small and I had duties to perform. And Helblindi could not always be home to watch him.”

“Helblindi is your brother. He was your mate too?” Brunnhilde looked scandalized. 

“How could you even think such a depraved thing?” Loki snarled. “We are not monsters, no matter what lies your people tell about us. My son’s sire died before he was born and my brother help me to nurse him.”

“You brother? How is that possible?”

“We are both sorcerers. Such a simple magic was not beyond either of us. Had he the time we could have simply shared the same quarters while I was pregnant until his milk came in. But as I have said, Helblindi had his own duties to attend.”

Brunnhilde shook her head. “There is much I have to learn of your people.”

“They are your people also. At least in part.” Loki said as he opened the door to his rooms.

“As heir apparent, and future protector of the nine realms I suppose that is true.”

Loki snorted at that. “Jötunheim needs no more of Asgard’s protection. We are not a vassal realm. I was speaking of you personally.” He cocked his head and watched her carefully as he spoke. “Of one of your grandmothers to be specific. Bestla was a Jötunn.” 

Brunnhilde nodded. “I have heard the rumors. Odin denied them, burned any mention in the official records. But even he couldn’t erase every trace. Glytha knows more about it. You should speak with her.”

Loki stood shocked at Brunnhilde’s easy acceptance of a truth he’d had to practically pound into Thor’s head and of which he was still not sure that Thor completely believed.

She smirked at him and reached out and tapped Loki under the chin. “You might want to close that before you swallow a fly.”

With that comment she turned and sashayed back to the waiting Valkyrie. She called over her shoulder.

“Get some sleep prince. You’ll need it.”

Loki shut the door on the women’s bawdy laughter.

***

Thor had spent a half hour in the company of three of Asgard’s seidr masters, two women and a man and he considered it thirty minutes too long. He was annoyed at their attitudes, half belligerent suspicion and half cringing. The man was the worst, embodying every stereotype of a sly feminine ergi. He remembered how much he disliked mages. Loki hadn’t been like this, fearful of his every move and filled with resentment. He’d been sure of his power, regal and aloof and every inch a prince. These three however... 

Thor stopped that line of thinking. Unlike Jötunheim where their kind were honored, those who wielded magic in Asgard were looked down on and treated with disdain, especially the men. Was it any wonder they were bitter and afraid? And who was he to judge how masculine a man should be, when he’d been happy to bed them? Thor shook his head at his own hypocrisy. He’d been giving monosyllabic answers simply because he was angry to be here. The mages were only trying to do their job. 

“Accept my apologies for my poor behavior.” Thor said. “You are not to blame for my incarceration. Ask your questions again and I shall answer them to the best of my abilities.”

The three looked shocked to hear such words from him. Thor realized how much rudeness toward those of lower rank had become a habit. 

“That would be appreciated your highness.” The man said.

Thor was gratified that he was still addressed as a prince, though there was some question of his retaining that title. 

The questioning began anew and this time it went smoother. With a respectful, cooperative prince the mages relaxed. After a while they were actively listening to his recital of Jötnar magic and Thor was coxing them into a less antagonistic view of Jötunheim. It had been many years since he’d been called on to settle a dispute with diplomacy instead of aggression, but Frigga’s lessons were coming back to him and Thor used every bit of his considerable charm to bring them closer to his way of thinking. By the time the interrogation was over they were smiling at him as if he were a lifelong friend. 

After the interrogation was over and the seidr masters left, Thor met with Bragi, his council. That Tyr had appointed a man known for his eloquence to defend Thor was proof to Thor that this was to be no sham trial. Once Thor made it clear to him he had no intention of claiming he’d been under coercion of any kind, they worked on hammering out a defense. Bragi was good picking apart Thor’s story as the King’s advocate would, ferreting out the weaknesses in his tale and making Thor go over every event during his time in Loki’s custody. The hours were mentally and emotionally exhausting and Thor was glad to be returned to the Spartan comfort of his cell. He’d have to do it all over again the next day and the next. He had the traditional three days until his trial and Bragi meant for them to be well prepared. They would not be awarded more time as all the witnesses where either in Asgard or considered enemy forces during the events.

Surprisingly he wasn’t worried. He’d done the right thing. He was going to do the right thing. And if it cost him his life so be it. His only sorrow was that Loki should mourn him. But Thor wasn’t going to buy his life at the cost of his lover’s reputation, or at the expense of losing of his own sense of honor. His nights were peaceful and his dreams filled with Loki’s soft smile and the cool touch of his hands. 

***

Loki’s days were spent in Glytha and Haakon’s company. Loki found Glytha’s sharp mind a match for his own and Haakon was without a trace of jealousy or cruelty in his nature. He could not have been more unlike his sister and Loki thought how much less stressful it would be to have married the easy going prince rather than the prickly princess. Brunnhilde, not surprisingly found that transferring command took much of her daylight hours. They breakfasted and dined together it was true. They also shared Loki’s bed but only for sleeping and as Brunnhilde said “To deflect any unwanted inquiries.” Loki had once again attempted to approach the question of an heir and she’d cut him off. 

“There is no hurry. Tyr won’t drop the treaty simply because we haven’t immediately engendered a child. He was married to my mother for almost sixty years before I was born and it was another two hundred before Haakon arrived. He was a surprise. They were reconciled for little more than four years. Mother thought he’d stay since she’d managed to produce a son, but his first loyalty was always to his king and the Einherjar. Odin was at war with most of the realms in those days.”

Brunnhilde paused as though she’d said more then she’d intended. She gave a half shrug.

“Besides, isn’t Thor was your true love?”

“Love and fucking aren’t the same thing. I was merely attempting to insure there wasn’t going to be a return to hostilities over a,” Loki wrinkled his nose as if in distaste, “a technicality.” 

He knew he was being crude and spiteful, but cruelty came easy to him when he felt vulnerable. Lying next to Brunnhilde each night, who despite her barbed personality, he found very attractive, while being denied the outlet of sex, or even platonic contact was irritating to say the least. Add in his loneliness and the constant wrongness of being without his seidr and he was ready to pick a fight with anyone. 

“A technicality? You have a real sweet way with words, don’t you? No wonder you charmed Thor with that tongue. But then, you weren’t using it for talking were you?”

“Too bad you’ll never know.” Loki hissed. 

And that was the end of that conversation. Now they were back to barely tolerating each other.

He was reduced to trying to take care of himself in the hour between leaving her brother and his wife’s company and when she returned to dine. An endeavor fraught with frustration and tears because Thor kept coming to mind and then the fear would override his attempt at lust and he’d end up more distraught then before. Loki both wished Thor’s trial day was here and that it would never arrive. 

But the days spent with Gytha hunting through old accounts gave him a world of information. Brunnhilde hadn’t been feigning her lack of surprise. Gytha had told both her husband and her sister in law of their Jötnar heritage. There were records still intact on Vanaheim and the dwarves were well aware of Odin’s and Tyr’s linage. Haakon had embraced it with a romantic’s love of the unusual and Brunnhilde simply didn’t care. She was forging her own pathway in Asgard and her father was of as little concern to her, as she was to him. She’d filed the information away as a potential tool in case she needed leverage against either Odin or Tyr.

It was while he was translating a Jötnar poem written in kennings for Gytha that Loki learned why the royal palace was filled with ancient Jötnar designs and built to their scale. It had been a wedding present from Bölþorn and his family to Borr and Bestla. Jötnar sorcerers and craftsman, working with Aesir architects had constructed the original building. Under the much later golden gilding lay the tight fitting stonework typical of Jötunheim’s underground retreats. Which explained why Loki felt strangely at home inside the palace. The outside was Aesir design but the inner rooms, the meeting halls, even the vast throne room were of Jötnar pattern. It was made to be a welcoming winter home for Bestla’s family. Why they had never visited was one of those mysteries lost to time. Had a rift within the family preceded his enslavement? Was that how, and perhaps, even why Borr had the later control spells added to the torc? Gytha had never found any reference to Bestla’s family much past the wedding.

Loki pried his thoughts from the past and consulted the latest procedural from the trial of a soldier for traitorous acts. Together they had located only five. Possibly because it was a rare offense or, as Loki suspected, it was only the upper class who were given a court trial instead of the speedier field trial and quick execution. So far four had resulted in a verdict of guilty and the defendant sentenced to death. Three had been executed and one had taken his own life. This trial was different. The man in question wasn’t accused of committing an act, instead as he was on trial for refusing to commit one. The captain had argued that the order to raze the hamlet in Vanahiem was unlawful. The people of the hamlet had had no connection to the rebels other than having the unfortunate luck to be living in the same area. They had in fact suffered depredations from said rebels. The commanding officer claimed the order was necessary to starve the enemy out of the forest by depriving them of resources. The captain had replied that burning the village would only create more enemies for the army to fight.

In the end he’d been arrested, his men turned over to his lieutenant and the village along with its crops and livestock destroyed. The original rebels had in fact been caught shortly thereafter, but only because the army had stumbled across their camp. By the time of the trial however the entire populace of the region was rising against the Aesir soldiers. Unfortunately this was not allowed to influence the trial because the question was on the legality of the order, not the wisdom of it. The case was decided against the captain, because his commanding officer had ordered only property destroyed. Had he commanded the villagers to be killed then the order would be unlawful. The captain was stripped of his rank, both military and civilian, his land and his wealth and was banished from Asgard.

Loki swore. Apparently the fact that destroying people’s food and shelter was as sure a death as slitting their throats, and much crueler had not occurred to the judge. Nothing the Aesir did made sense to him. Their laws seemed only to ensure compliance with their rulers, instead of ensuring the welfare of their people. Obedience was prized over intelligence and honor over compassion. Loki hated the word. Honor. Honor it seemed meant whatever the ruling class deemed it to mean to best serve their desires. 

It was honorable to follow the stupidest of orders, and get your own people killed, and loose a damn war. But it was dishonorable to have the bravery to question such an idiotic order. It was honorable to engage a man in combat when you knew he could and would defeat you and your defeat would allow him to harm and even kill innocents. But it was dishonorable to defeat him using intelligence and trickery to save lives. It was considered honorable for an Aesir woman to take the sword from her dead husband’s hand and fight to save her children, but dishonorable for her to engage in training that might make such a move actually accomplish something. And Norns forbid she do something like seduce her enemies so her children could run away, or get help or even find their father should he still be alive to return with his friends and kill the invaders. No, such a woman would best be killed with her attackers because of honor. 

It infuriated him. Only the strongest and cruelest could prevail under such a system. Everyone else was left to the role of victim or coward. It sickened him. No wonder their ballads sang of death in battle as the best end. No matter how much glory they’d amassed in their youth, a warrior who was too good, who outlived his ability to fight was left only the role of a coward. That was why a man of Volstag’s age, with a wife and children, still chanced death on the battle field, he was looking for a glorious end, rather than years of being a father and a grandfather. That was why Odin, infirm of body and mind, had jumped at the chance to fight and die a hero on the plains of Jötunheim and make Loki’s people pay in blood for his own culture’s warped ideals.

Loki sprang to his feet with a curse and threw the book of court records across the room. Gytha and Haakon jumped at the sudden noise and movement from the Jötunn who had been the soul of curtesy the past two days. At that moment Loki was consumed with such rage, that had he access to his magic he’d have leveled the palace and killed everyone in it. As it was he lifted the heavy oaken table they’d been studying at over his head and threw it after the book where it hit the wall and shattered into kindling. His hosts had scuttled back to press themselves against the book shelves. One of the library attendants cowered under another table staring in shock at the destruction. 

Loki stood shaking in fury. His teeth were bared and his hands crooked into claws and he drew harsh panting breaths, beyond words. He suddenly turned and stalked out of the library and none dared stop the enraged prince consort. Through the corridors and across the great hall and out the wide doors into the warm air and the beating sun and still he didn’t stop. It wasn’t until he arrived at the stables that his steps slowed, that the anger that twisted his handsome features into a mask to haunt nightmares finally eased. He pushed his was past frightened stable boys and took a curry comb from one's numbed fingers. He elbowed the boy aside and took his place next to the big stallion, patting its sweat stained sides and whispering to still its alarm at his sudden intrusion. The beast calmed under his hands and voice and the steady practiced strokes of the brush. When Loki picked up a great hoof and held out his hand a hoof pick was placed in his palm and he continued his work. 

He’d turned the stallion over to a stable hand to be fed and watered and was combing the tangles from the mane of an elderly flatulent mare when Brunnhilde arrived. She ordered the stable boys out and ignoring Loki’s death glare, picked up a comb of her own and set to work on the mare’s tail. Loki couldn’t help smirking when the horse once again passed gas, much to his wife’s disgust. 

“Trust you to pick the safe end.” Brunnhilde said with a grimace, stepping back to let the air clear.

“Trust me to assess a situation before I act.”

“Was that you assessing a situation in the library?”

“No. That was me choosing to destroy easily replaceable property instead of wresting a sword from the nearest guard and slaughtering every Aesir I could reach before I was cut down. Be happy that I only broke a table instead of leaving the palace awash in the blood of your kind.”

“So now they are my kind again. I thought I was your kind the other day.” Brunnhilde said gingerly combing the mare’s tail.

“It is not my fault my great uncle was fool enough to marry an Aesir.”

“Nor mine that my grandfather was fool enough to marry a Jötunn. Yet here we are repeating their folly.”

“Not by choice.” Loki growled.

“In that at least we are agreed. So what was it that got your balls in a twist?”

“Such a delicate maiden is my wife. Your culture is insane. Your traditions are nothing but hidebound foolishness that raises idiots to power and penalizes anyone with half a brain.”

“You won’t get any argument from me there.” Brunnhilde said, stepping aside again and fanning the air. “What on earth are they feeding this old girl?”

Loki didn’t bother answering. He was used to being around animals and the snowboar were considerably more odorous. He wished Brunnhilde would take the hint and leave. He’d come here to calm down, not get into another argument with her. She seemed impervious to his silence and continued talking.

“Did you find what you were looking for? Gytha told me you spent most of the day pouring over old court records.”

“No.”

“Nothing that will help him.” 

That was a statement not a question and Loki again ignored it.

He traded the comb for a brush and stroked over the mare’s sides. 

“Look, I have better things to do then to try to cajole you out of a snit.”

“Then do them and leave me alone. Had I, by some stretch of the imagination, wished your company I would have sought it out. Obviously I do not. At least the horses don’t shrink from my touch.”

Brunnhilde looked at him in disbelief. “Are you claiming you threw a table across a room and scared the crap out of my brother and his wife because I won’t agree to let you fuck me? You have just reached an entirely new level of asshole behavior. ”

“Hell No!” Loki swore and the mare threw up her head and danced sideways at his sharp voice. He reached out and quieted her with a soft whisper and a soothing stroke on her neck. He took a slow breath before continuing. 

“I, as you say, found nothing to help Thor. Your records are full of men trying to do the right thing and being punished for it.” Which wasn’t the strictest truth but Loki was not feeling generous. “But it was learning about your skewed love of _honor,_ ” He almost spat the word. “That allowed me to understand that Odin refused to return the casket solely so he could start a war. To use my people, who have suffered beyond endurance his torments for a thousand years. He took these last precious survivors and cut them down to fuel his funeral pyre. My bearer died because of Odin’s selfish wish for a _good death._ ” 

Loki paused and reined in his emotions. 

“As for the other, I understand the need to end any gossip before it starts. Nor do I have any reason to expect you to desire me. But it is sheer torment to lay within a foot of you and not be granted even the simple comfort of physical contact to dispel the illusion that I’m in the land of the dead. At least the horses feel alive.”

“The dwarf said you would adjust in time. You are still experiencing the hallucinations?””

“Define 'in time'. I am not hallucinating. It is the very opposite of having hallucinations. It is as if I am blind while still able to see. Hearing words that have no meaning. Eating food without taste or smell.”

“I wouldn’t mind a little of that last bit.” Brunnhilde said as the mare once again lifted her tail. She gave Loki a half grin. 

“It is as though there is a veil between me and the world. Walking awake in nightmare. But when I can feel the warmth of this smelly beast’s coat, the pulse of her blood through her veins it lessons somewhat. I know I’m not completely alone.”

Loki shut his eyes and rested his head on the mare’s neck. He was so tired. “I’m terrified that Thor is going to be a fool tomorrow and throw his life away in the name of your cursed honor.”

There were arms around his waist. Her head was between his shoulder blades. He could feel her breathing, the Aesir warmth of her body pressed against his. 

“Then we will have to engineer a prison break, if Thor should be so stupid." Brunnhilde said. "After all, why should my cousin have all the fun of transgressing everyone’s expectations?”

Held in the warmth between horse and woman, Loki let go his anger and sighed in relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we shall have the trial and its result.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial. Loki makes his bid.

Loki shifted on the hard bench, trying to relieve the ache in his thighs. For all the splendor of Asgard one would think they could cushion their chairs. He wished he’d worn the thicker wool pants. He knew they would be too warm but at least the edge of the seat wouldn’t be cutting into the back of his legs so badly. Brunnhilde could have enlightened him about the length of the preliminary court proceedings. This was his third day and it was only this morning that the prosecution and the defense had finally settled on the specifics of the charges. Thor was nowhere in sight and Loki was lost trying to follow the minutia of Asgard’s legal system. The judge’s only purpose at this point seemed to be checking that each obscure reference was legitimate and whether or not it pertained to whatever point the lawyer was trying to make.

He’d envisioned something like a trial on Jotunheim where the two sides presented their case and the judge made a decision, sometimes consulting the city council if the charges were serious. Though he’d expected Tyr to be the judge here, as Laufey had been in cases of state security. But Tyr wasn’t here, Brunnhilde wasn’t here, in fact the only people here besides Loki were the two lawyers, their assistants, the judge and a court reporter. His mind wandered off as they droned on. The night after his trip to the stables was still on his mind. 

He’d been asleep when she came to bed, but woke enough to manage a good night. He was just starting to drift off when he felt her curl up against his back. He held still, uncertain what to do when she put her arm around his ribs. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck, the heat of her body through his nightclothes. His first reaction wasn’t arousal, it was relief. The terrible loneliness that surrounded him now that he could no longer sense the people around him with his seidr, slid away. The tension in his muscles that had been a constant companion relaxed, and he heard himself make a low sound of release. 

“Don’t get any ideas, Jötunn.” Brunnhilde said, but there was no real threat in her tone. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“I won’t.” Loki answered, which was a lie, because now his body was reacting to her touch. 

However it was too good to be held like this to give it up for a few moments of physical pleasure. He concentrated on the simple warmth of feeling another's touch and not on the erotic aspects of it. He thought of his last day on Jötunheim and holding Sleipnir as he napped. That combination of sorrow and joy and parental love cooled his arousal. In a few minutes he was drifting back to sleep. 

“Thank you.” he murmured.

She’d made a noncommittal sound and he’d fallen into the first true rest he’d had since arriving on Asgard. When he’d woken in the morning, draped over her with his hard cock pressed against her silk clad thigh she had not been angered but amused.

“I see the Jötnar are not the different from men.” She said when Loki rolled away.

He felt both embarrassed and somewhat hopeful. Though why her raised eyebrow made him feel embarrassed for what was a normal reaction and not under his control was a mystery. He buried the hopefulness away. A tolerant smile was no attempt as seduction. Loki rather doubted that Thor would see Loki fucking his cousin, as anything but a betrayal. Jealousy was considered a measure of love on Asgard and Loki had seen how jealous Thor was of his ex-lover. He really shouldn’t think about having sex with Brunnhilde when it was clear she had no interest in him. And he did love Thor. He loved his reckless heart his open soul, his passion. Loki shut his eyes at that. It hurt too much to turn his mind to Thor and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of these Aesir.

Loki sighed. He really shouldn’t be fantasizing about Brunnhilde either, but Norns, she was fascinating. As strong of personality as she was of body, and with a sardonic sense of humor that really appealed to him. Under all her brusqueness there was a thoughtful caring. She wasn’t about to give herself away on impulse, but she could be kind when she choose. Apparently she’d decided he was worth her kindness. She’d held him the next night and last night also. His incipient lust had died. He wondered if it was simply born of his attraction to the novel. She was so different from the Jötnar, softer and smaller then himself. Yet another aspect that he found interesting. 

Loki startled out of his daydreaming as the men in the courtroom stood up. The midday break had arrived. He stood and stretched and only just refrained from trying to rub a little feeling back into his numbed butt. Thor’s council approached gave him a quick glance and Loki decided to take his time gathering up the notes he’d taken. Pausing to go over papers that held too little substance and too many bored doodles. When he looked up again the Aesir had approached him. They were alone in the room. 

“What do you think of our justice system, Prince Consort?” Bragi asked.

“I find it tedious to the point of torture. Yet I doubt that you stayed to discuss the merits of your trial process. Out with it.”

“If it is bluntness you require then blunt I shall be. Why are you here Prince? What charm can this slow unfolding of the law hold for you? Are you that bent on revenge that you would waste your hours in seeing Odin’s son brought so low?”

Loki paused a moment before speaking. The man was Thor’s legal defender and no matter how he personally felt about it, had been doing an excellent job badgering the prosecution.

“I would see him cleared of charges. At the least I would see him safe away from Asgard. At the best reinstated to his rank, if not his position as heir.”

“How would you accomplish that?” 

“By establishing he had no free will while on Jötunheim.”

“Is that the truth?”

“I am the most powerful sorcerer on Jötunheim. I held him captive for three days by the power of my magic. During that time he was tortured by a soldier under my command. I laid spells of compulsion on Thor while he was my slave. I shackled his will with a powerful Dwarven artifact. I rifled through his mind to pull out his innermost thoughts.” Loki paused. “That is the truth.”  
“Compelling as your words are, you did not answer my question.”

“I gave you what you need. Use it. Thor will not be able to deny the truth of it. Otherwise he will throw away his life for his damned honor.”

“Thor has stated he will not blame you for his own actions. He believes it will undermine your position and make your life difficult.”

“Then do not be fool enough to discuss it with him.” Loki snarled. Fear coiled in his belly. All that he knew of Thor meant his lover was set on this path of self-destruction. “My position is assured. Tyr wants war no more than Býleistr does. And I rather doubt your people could think any less of me.”

“If he was your pawn why should you care about him now?”

Loki looked away. He know nothing of this man. To say he loved Thor would undermine his own words yet to state a desire to reclaim him as a tool would force Bragi to choose between what was best for Asgard and what was best for his client.

“I desire to thwart Odin’s last wish to see his son destroyed. It is a petty revenge but all that is left to me.”

Bragi looked Loki in the eye but the Jötunn didn’t turn away. The older man gave him a nod and left. Loki waited a few minutes then followed him from the empty courtroom.  
Loki almost didn’t return that afternoon. He’d begun to feel that his presence was pointless. But if nothing else he would be witness to what happened behind those closed doors. When he came back to take his seat in the royal box he was surprised to see Tyr in attendance. The king gave him a measuring glance and turned back to survey the room. Loki took his seat and followed Tyr’s example. The trial must have entered a more active stage. The prosecutor and defense were at their tables and the last of the council members were trickling in to find their places. The rest of the courtroom was filling up with observers of several different classes. Loki glanced toward the side doors and froze as Thor was led in. 

As if drawn by a pulling thread Thor turned and met his eyes. The noise of the people faded out, the rest of the room blurred. Loki couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move as Thor stared back. Time stopped and all Loki’s world was Thor’s sad eyes, his worn face. 

Then the Einherjar who guarded Thor gave a sharp jerk on his chains and the moment was gone. Thor was led to the post where he would stand during his trial and secured.  
Loki realized he was standing and sank back to his seat, trying to catch his breath. His pulse pounded in his ears. He fought the impulse to hide his face in his hands, smoothed his features into blankness and took out his pen and notes. He could feel Tyr’s eyes on him and he kept his gaze on the prosecutions table, afraid he had already given himself away. 

It was hard to sit in affected nonchalance as the soldiers came forward. To remain placid as their damning accounts were recited, of their confusion as their prince first challenged, then stood against their king. The men spoke of their disbelief as he betrayed them and protected Asgard’s enemy from just retribution. Loki drew many bitter looks of hatred, and he grinned as if taking delight in his mischief. Lastly they spoke of their anger at the death of their comrades by the same enemy’s sorcerous blades. At this Loki’s face went hard and cold. If the Aesir expected him to lament killing the invaders to his homeland they were very mistaken. Those deaths cause him not a qualm. He only regretted that the numbers weren’t higher. 

He avoided looking at Thor. He didn’t want him to see the fierce joy in Loki’s eyes when the lists of the Aesir dead were read. He hoped the loss was seared into their souls. He mourned his own people, mourned his father with an agony that stabbed into his heart if he so much as brought Laufey’s name to mind. Let the Aesir feel the pain of their own actions. His outrage at their hypocrisy of trying Thor, as if _he_ were the one responsible, made Loki quiver with rage. 

The bracelets on his wrists tightened painfully and Loki throttled back his emotions. He took three slow breaths before he glanced down at the golden ornaments that bound his power. They were glowing faintly to even his normal eyesight and the ache in his arms told him their power was more than an illusion. As he calmed they loosened and the glow faded. That was a first. And something to consider. They hadn’t activated at his frustration three days prior. So was it the combination of emotions? He’d always powered his magic with cold logic and precision, being careful to subdue his passions. Untamed seidr was a menace to both the mage and those around him. But perhaps wild magic was what he needed to free himself. His thoughts turned to the power he and Thor had unintentionally called. Could it be manifested again by intent? Not that they would have an opportunity. Unless…

Loki shook his head and returned to the trial. The prosecution called the seidr masters to testify. Loki leaned forward as the first of them took the stand. 

The rest of the afternoon had gone better then Loki had expected. Without saying a word he cast doubt on the Aesir mages statements that they could find no trace of a mind control spell. Loki had allowed a smile to twitch the corners of his mouth at the start of the testimony, he changed it to a lazy eyed smirk as the second mage spoke. He made a muffled snort of mirth when the prosecution brought out the torc and asked the oldest mage, who was the woman who oversaw the examination of Loki’s bracelets to confirm that its only purpose was to allow the wearer to survive Jötunheim’s harsh climate. At Loki’s outburst she related the exchange between Loki and the Dwarven mage-smith regarding a torc and mind controlling spells.

Loki twisted his face into a look of sour disapproval, though he was silently blessing the woman for the animosity that lead her to volunteer that information. The prosecutor managed to get her to admit she didn’t know that it was this torc in particular they had been speaking of, but the damage had been done. Loki could feel the shift in the courtroom as the Aesir began to aim more angry glares his way and sent looks of pity toward Thor. Loki wrapped himself in a look of cold disdain for the last half hour of the afternoon and avoided even glancing at Thor. Though he ached to look at his lover, to do so would give away the game. As soon as the last word was said Loki rose to his feet and stalked from the courtroom. He was glad there was a private entrance for the Royal family. 

He was only a few steps from the door when Tyr’s voice rang out. Loki paused in the narrow passageway. He slowly turned to face the king, holding his mask of haughty indifference in place with an effort. 

“I had hoped that with this treaty there would be peace between our realms. Yet today you show yourself to yet be an enemy to Asgard. Do you mean to undo the work your King and I have started?”

“King Tyr,” Loki said with a stiff bow. “I hold to the words of the treaty, I do not lift my hand against the Aesir in word or deed. I shall not bring ruin to your realm. Remember, it was not the Jötnar who spun lies of peace while pillaging their way through the nine.”

“Is it not time to leave the past in the past? How will your behavior help heal the wounds of war?”

“How easy it would be for you if we were to forgive and forget what you have wrought. Especially as that will mean you never have to claim responsibility for your depredations. Know this your Majesty, I have ever been and ever shall be the enemy of your kind. You may have muzzled my magic and caged my actions with the threat of war. I may allow myself to be paraded through the streets of Asgard as if I wore collar and leash for my people’s sake. But do not for a moment think I shall ever fawn on those that attacked my world, nor lick the hands that spilled my father’s blood on Torsborg plain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the trial is underway and Loki is trying hard to keep his true feelings hidden. These next chapters may be a bit short. Please bear with.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial's end and its aftermath. Trickery and illusion. Loki goes for a ride.

Once again the courtroom was filled. Today Loki was joined in the royal box by one of his Valkyrie guards, though she choose to sit behind him. There had been two of them when he stepped outside his door and the senior woman had explained that Brunnhilde had assigned them to guard him. Loki wasn’t sure whether they were meant to protect him or protect the Aesir from him, but he had little choice in the matter.

Thor’s testimony was disaster from the moment his questioning began. The judge cut him off anytime he attempted to justify his actions on Jötunheim. The question, the judge reiterated, was not whether he’d been correct in defying Odin, the question was, did he defy his lawful king, was he aware that he was defying him and was he acting of his own free will. Thor became more and more agitated as the questions continued.

“Of course I tried to stop the old fool!” Thor had yelled at one point. “He would have killed hundreds of innocent…

“That is enough Thor Odinson.” The judge yelled back. “The reasons behind your actions are unimportant! If you cannot control yourself I’ll have you removed from the court.”

Loki ground his teeth in frustration. Thor’s reasons being to prevent the slaughter of both their peoples. No, that was nowhere as important as him refusing to follow Odin’s “lawful” commands. For a second time the bracelets tightened around Loki’s wrists in warning and glowed with power. Loki calmed his mind with ritual thoughts and slow breathing. There was no point in getting his hands cut off because of his own seething emotions.

It only got worse when Bragi, seeing Thor dig himself into a deeper and deeper hole with his belligerent attitude and too honest answers, jettisoned Thor’s desired defense and peppered him with the questions Loki had suggested. Forced to answer honestly, Thor snarled at his own lawyer, shot Loki looks of increasing rage, and finally engaged in a full out shouting match with Bragi, the judge and the prosecutor.

Thor’s restraints had not been specifically made for him as Loki were, and the angrier he became the more sparks crawled over his skin. Loki had to fight down his instinct to intervene when the judge called for six Einherjar to drag Thor from the room. Thor snapped the chain holding him to the post, threw one guard across the judge’s podium causing the older man to dodge in an undignified scramble, and laid out the second with his hands still bound together. Loki watched Thor fight with a combination of fear and admiration. Fear that he might be injured and admiration at his amazing physical prowess. A third time the bracelets tightened and before the agony of bone grinding against bone forced Loki to smother his emotions, he felt the surge of his own power and the room brightened with life for a few precious seconds.

Loki rose to his feet and using every bit of his acting ability, he threw back his head and laughed in derision, as if Thor’s attack was the outcome he’d planned on. His laughter was bordering on the hysterical and he had to cut it off with a sharp gasp. It worked. Thor stopped fighting like a switch in his brain had been flipped. His glance at Loki was filled with betrayal and heartbreak. Loki smiled at the hostile faces looking up at him, though he was shaking inside. The judge yelled,

“Get that cursed Jötunn bastard out of my court.”

Before any guard could advance Loki grinned wider, bowed mockingly at the gathered Aesir, and marched out of the courtroom through the royal entrance. The senior Valkyrie followed and caught his shoulder.  
“Iarngerth will see you to your rooms. I must return to hear the verdict and report to Brunnhilde.”

Loki pulled free from her hand and hurried down the hall, his remaining escort trotting at his side. He held his pace to an arrogant stride while his every instinct screamed at him to run. He kept his head up and a haughty expression on his face until he reached the sanctuary of his own quarters. Once inside he dropped the mask and sagged against the wall, breathing hard.

His brother was going to kill him if the Aesir King didn’t. Not that he truly believed they would, though he’d undoubtedly managed to anger Tyr today. Loki was pretty sure Thor would beat the shit out of him for his act. If he ever spoke to Loki again. And provided Thor wasn’t executed instead. 

Bile rose in Loki’s throat, and had he been able to eat this morning he would have spewed his breakfast on the thick rugs that carpeted his bedroom. As he hadn’t, all it did was burn his throat and fill his mouth with acid. Loki washed it out with water and then mead as he waited for the fallout from the trial. 

As he sipped at the mead Loki contemplated that his seidr wasn’t gone, it wasn’t lost to him forever. It had not been his emotions alone that triggered the bracelets to react. It was Thor and him together. Somehow he had to get to his lover and then he’d be free of this torture. He knew he’d promised Býleistr that he’d do his best to support his mate and win the Aesir over. But that was when they both thought that Thor, sympathetic to their people and a powerful prince in his own right was to be heir and king. Not that Loki would be wed to a women, at whose rule the Aesir would always look askance. How long she could hold the throne after Tyr’s death, before there was an uprising to remove her? Even if Brunnhilde supported the Jötnar wholeheartedly, they would think it the result of a woman’s weak mind being overpowered by her monstrous husband. Loki had felt their hostility in the days before the trial. Only Gytha and Haakon had been truly welcoming. Though the Valkyrie seemed to tolerate him for Brunnhilde's sake. He was in an impossible position. He had to abide by the treaty even though he would fail to do as his brother hoped. He was not even able to provide an heir. He doubted the life quietly growing inside him would be welcomed. 

He was filling his third glass when Brunnhilde slammed the door open and shut. She stalked into the room, her expression one of fury. 

Apprehension gripped Loki’s heart. 

“Well?” He said. “What’s the verdict?”

“The verdict is I need a drink.” Brunnhilde snarled. She took the half full bottle from his hand and drank it down.

“What happened?” Loki demanded.

“You two managed to truly fuck up everything.”

“Brunnhilde!” Loki plead. “What are they going to do to him?”

“I suggest you gather your weapons, Lackey. You are considered too dangerous to roam free on Asgard and too powerful to be returned to Jötunheim. The Einherjar are on their way to take you to a cell where you are to spend your remaining days.”

“Why?” Loki said, catching the knives Brunnhilde tossed in his direction. He threaded the scabbards onto his belt. “Why would Tyr revoke the treaty?”

“The King has declared that the terms of the treaty were never met, as it seems that you have circumvented the binding of your magic, possibly in collusion with the dwarves.” She threw Loki’s embroidered overtunic at him. “Put that on you’ll need it. It’s obvious to the judge, council and king that you still have Thor under your control. They were deciding who else they would need to imprison because you might have turned them against Asgard with your magic. When Halldóra heard that she came to warn me.” 

“That’s insane.” Loki said. “My magic _is_ bound!”

“No, Loki, its not insane. It’s the impression you two idiots did everything to convey.” 

Loki pulled his woolen pants on over the light ones, pushed his feet into his boots and grabbed his cloak. Brunnhilde was likewise dressing in her warmest clothing. As they went out into the hall he could hear the sound of yelling coming from the stairway. It was followed by the sharp zap of energy weapons discharging. There was a tremendous crash and then four Valkyrie charged up the hall toward them. Brunnhilde grabbed his hand and they raced to the sky dock at the end of the hall. 

“What about Thor?” Loki cried.

“His friends are doing the honors.” Brunnhilde answered.

There was no waiting sky boat at the dock and Loki started to slow his steps when his wife gave a loud whistle and the archway was obscured by a flurry of huge white wings. Loki’s jaw dropped and a moment later he was half shoved, half carried of the dock by the group of woman. He fell for only a second but it was a second he hoped to never relive. Then he was scrabbling at the harness of a great winged horse. Brunnhilde pulled him up and he mounted behind her. 

“Hold on!” She cried.

The world tilted sideways and Loki grasped her tightly around the waist and gripped the horse with his knees as they plunged down and around the palace in a tight formation of beating wings and flashing spears.

***

Thor stood in the anteroom with his head down, the chains held by the remaining Einherjar hanging slack. He had no fight left in him. Had Loki’s every action been a trick? A way to dishonor him? He’d heard Loki’s cruel mocking laughter as Thor was silenced and made to look a fool and a pawn. He’d seen Loki’s face triumphantly grinning as Thor had been led from the court. Thor remembered his heartless words at the Bifrost; 

“As long as the Casket of Winters returns to Jötunheim you could marry me to a drooling crone.”

Even the one night they had shared in passion Loki had said to him;

“Never ask me to choose between my people and yourself.”

Loki would always choose for Jötunheim. Had Torsborg even been real? What if the entire time he was on Jötunheim had been a show put together by Loki and the frost giants, for the purpose of manipulating Thor into throwing away his honor and betraying his father? Had he been wrapped into illusion and sorcery from the very beginning? 

The Einherjar Captain came into the anteroom, interrupting Thor's ruminations. 

“He’s to be taken to the deepest level of the dungeon. There is a cell specially prepared for him.”

Thor sagged even more. The deepest level was where the forgotten prisoners went. Those who would never again see the light of day. The largest of his guards, a man even bigger then Thor nodded. Then, as if to confirm to Thor's theory he’d lost his mind to illusion, the big man hit the captain in the gut doubling him over. The other three guards sprang into action and in a moment the captain was gagged. The smallest of the guards slapped a medical patch on his neck and the man relaxed into unconsciousness. They stripped the captain of his armor, tied him up and stuffed him into a gap under one of the benches.

Thor stood by unable to take in what had just happened, so quick and silent had it been. The small guard pulled off his helmet and Sif said with a grin. 

“Don’t stand there gaping Thor, we don’t have all day.” 

Volstagg chuckled and handed Thor the captain’s breastplate. “It will be a tight fit lad, but nowhere near as tight as this rig is on me.” 

Thor shook his head and started pulling on the armor. 

“My friends, I can’t let you do this. You’ll be marked as traitors also.”

“Thor, Sif has another of those patches, so if you don’t want to be carried out of I suggest you cooperate.” Fandral said. “And we may need your help getting out of the palace.”

“If we are to be named traitor,” Hogan added, “then we shall be in good company. I find that my presence here is already suspect. Your people have not forgotten that I am Vanier.”

“Nor,” said Volstagg, unlocking the cuffs with a key. “that we are your boon companions.”

Thor grinned like a battle hungry berserker as the shackles fell away. Thunder boomed loud enough to shake the palace.

***

Clouds boiled black and lightning cracked across the darkening sky, followed by the rumbling voice of the storm.

“I see my cousin is freed.” Brunnhilde remarked. “Now the fun begins.”

Loki grinned. The electricity snaking through the air answered a fire in his own blood. Below them the skyboats were rising like a swarm of bees. The skirmish on their floor and the explosion blocking the stairway had warned Tyr that the Valkyrie were no longer supporting his rule. The skyboats strafed their formation but the flying horses were far more maneuverable and the group split. The great winged horses swooped and rolled out of the path of fire. Even so it was only a matter of time before they were over taken by the speedy machines.

“Get me close to one of those ships!” Loki called to Brunnhilde against the wind. “I have an idea.”

“Are you mad?” She answered as they narrowly dodged a blast.

“Perhaps.” Loki answered.

“No killing if you can help it.”

“You will take the fun out of everything.”

“I mean it Lackey, this is a rescue mission not a chance for you to even the score.”

“I shall do my best not to kill the soldiers presently attempting to kill us.” Loki answered. 

He noted that many of the Valkyrie had gotten shots off and three of the sky boats were circling downward, trailing sparks, unable to stay aloft. But one of the horses had been shot and was faltering. Loki saw another rider drive her beast down in an effort to rescue her sister warrior, he didn’t know if she’d succeeded as Brunnhilde pulled their animal up into a loop, and they were diving on the skyboat, that a moment before had been on their tail.

Loki said, “Laufey guide me.” He stood up on the back of the beast and then leaped across and down to land on the craft among the surprised men. He kicked the nearest in his knee snapping the bone. He spun, slammed his dagger handle into the side of the second man’s head and used his falling body to knock the third man to the deck where a quick thump of his skull to the metal plate left him unconscious. Loki saw a flash of movement behind him and dodged the blast as the first man fired at him. Loki’s thrown dagger was in his eye before he could pull the trigger a second time. 

“You should have stayed down.” Loki said and grasped the controls of the ship. 

The skyboat was simple to fly, a lever controlled the speed and a wheel the steering. Loki cut the speed, dropped the craft lower and several of the fleet flew over his head. He fired at the underbelly of the ships, aiming for the areas he’d seen the Valkyrie hit. Two explosions that sent his targets into a spiral were his reward. That got their attention and he immediately drove his craft into a steep climb, weaving to avoid the fire of the pursuing ships. He sped upward toward the heart of the storm. Thor’s storm. Magic blind or not he could feel it, feel Thor’s rage and power roiling through the sky. Loki laughed wildly, as the skyboat was tossed by the ferocious winds and electricity crawled like blue-white snakes over the wings and hull. The bracelets tightened painfully around his wrists.

“THOR!” Loki screamed. 

The rain hit him like a blow and he was drenched in seconds, thunder roared in his ears, deafening him. Energy blasts streaked past him, two striking his craft, tearing a hole in the side and ripping a flange from one wing. His hands were growing numb and his wrists pulsed with pain. His blood was trickling from under the glowing bracelets only to be washed away by the deluge.

“THOR!” Loki yelled again and the storm closed around him like the arms of his lover. 

The chasing boats slowed and started to turn away, but it was too late. Lightning drove down like barbed harpoons shattering their hulls, and spilling their occupants into the pitiless sky. Loki was panting in agony. He felt the crack as his left wrist bone snapped. Tears streaked his face and he raised his hands to the sky in offering. His love, his fear, his anger, his very life he offered up to the storm's raging power.

“THOR!” Loki cried a final time. 

The lightning slammed into him, white hot and blinding, searing him from his upraised fingertips to the soles of his feet. The ship disintegrated around him, the unconscious men turned to cinders in the flaring heat. 

Loki shrieked, suspended in the thunderbolts’ deadly embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, once again I'm being a bastard. But at least things are starting to look up.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle's conclusion.

Thor led his friends in a quick jog down the wide corridors. The Einherjar were hurrying everywhere and Thor’s air of absolute command, coupled with the captain’s insignia on his stolen armor, allowed them to pass through the halls without a second look.

“We are supposed to be escaping, not going deeper into the palace.” Fandral whispered.

“Not without Mjölnir.” Thor growled.

“The vault is heavily guarded.” Hogun added. 

Thor’s grim laugh boded ill for those protecting Odin’s treasures. 

The thunder echoed his mood. Fandral looked at Thor in alarm, for his eyes were glowing with a pale blue light and there was a tracery of electricity that crawled over his golden armor.

“Thor!” Fandral hissed sharply, as the iron bound door closed, cutting off the noise of the guard filled halls. They started down the stairway. “These are men of Asgard, they have fought side by side with us. Would you unleash your power on them?”

Thor paused and shook his head. The sparkle of electricity had faded to a dull glow as he descended the steps and rounded the corner. A short distance away a company of Einherjar, twelve men, fully armed stood in watchful array before the treasury doors. 

Thor turned to Fandral and whispered, “Follow my lead, we are here to inspect the…” He stopped and tilted his head as if listening.

Thor’s eyes widened, “No.” He said softly, then “NO!” he roared. 

His eyes blazed white hot with power. Fandral leaped away in alarm, bumping into Volstagg so hard the big man landed on his wide rump with Fandral in his lap. Sif and Hogun skipped out of the way as lightning coruscated over Thor. Even the men guarding the vault took an involuntary step back. 

“LOKI!” Thor bellowed. 

Blinding light exploded from Thor and there was a deafening CRACK! within the treasury. The vault doors burst apart as a white hot ball of fire raced toward the pillar of crackling lightning that stood in place of the prince. The shockwave as they came together sent both friend and foe flying. Sif took the least harm, having the presence of mind to dart around the corner and was only knocked to her knees, Hogun was on her heels and he rolled with the impact to end up at the bottom of the staircase, largely unscathed. Fandral was not so lucky, as he was slammed against the far wall with Volstagg piled on top of him. Volstagg was knocked breathless, blinking up at the ceiling as he tried to sort out just what had happened.

The Einherjar fared worse, with only a few feet between impact and the doors, most were stunned, several unconscious and few without cracked ribs. One man, who had escaped the worst of the damage raised his weapon toward the burning apparition only to have the spear explode as a line of crackling fire lashed down its length. The guard scrambled backward cradling his damaged hand and called for reinforcements only to be met with the hissing silence of a disabled com. He watched in wonder as the light died away and his ex-commander appeared in the place of the elemental. Thor’s battle armor gleamed and a cloak the color of blood spilled from his shoulders. Mjölnir hummed in his hand and lightning sheathed her head.

“Prince Thor?” The guard asked. He backed away, then turned and darted past Thor toward the exit. Hogun’s mailed fist ended his flight.

Thor swayed on his feet, looking around the room in confusion. 

“Where… what?”

Sif was at Thor’s side in a moment.

“We have what we came for.” Sif said. “Let’s go.”

She guided Thor toward the others as Hogun helped Volstagg to his feet. Together they hoisted a groaning Fandral over Volstagg’s broad shoulder. The rest of the guards were starting to stir as they hurried up the staircase.

***  
There was pain. A crushing, tearing pain that felt to Loki as if his half numbed hands were being ripped from his arms. 

Then there was heat that burned away the vice like grip. Loki’s seidr surged into the aching wound of its absence so fast he convulsed with the power of its return. 

Then there was light. It encompassed his body, filled his mind. And the light was Thor. It was rage so fierce it made Loki weep for his lover’s betrayal. It was love so strong it made his heart stutter. Loki could not bear it, yet he yearned to be joined always thus, soul to soul. The storm thundered his name and he whispered back, “Thor.”

Lastly there was darkness and rain and a whistling wind and he was falling. Falling like a star thrown from heaven.

Loki came back to himself. To the throbbing pain of his seared forearms and the agony of blood pulsing into his curled fingers. To the air too warm and wet and crackling with lightning. To the scream of energy blasts and the shriek of a wounded horse beating burning wings. To the sight of the Valkyrie still holding back as they fought a defensive battle while the Einherjar attacked with lethal abandon. 

Loki stopped his fall with a thought and armored himself in living ice of sea-green and black. A mantle of dark cloud billowed behind him. The power of Thor’s storm had been given to him and Loki’s magic snaked like green lightning from the thunderhead's crest to the churning sea. 

He spread his fingers in a blessing and rain sluiced across the flailing horse dousing the flame and where the drops splashed feathers and hide were made whole. The deluge swept over the Valkyrie, healing warrior and beast alike. 

As it struck the ships of Asgard’s army, Loki drew his obsidian blade and stabbed downward. The rain turned to razor sharp ice that slashed every inch of exposed skin, blinding those too slow to cover their eyes. 

Weapons were turned on the sorcerer but he crossed his arms and his cloud streaked mantle furled around him absorbing the energy and feeding it into the howling tempest.

Loki closed his empty hand and punched at his attackers and fist sized hail pounded the air ships’ thin metal wings into uselessness and bent the weapon shafts as if they were straw. 

He took a deep breath, blew out, and icy fog shrouded the Valkyrie from those whose eyes were yet undamaged. 

He spat and sleet clogged and froze engines and sheeted in thick layers, weighing down the sky boats and forcing them to fall in uncontrolled spirals to the wind tossed waves. 

Loki walked down the racing clouds like they were steps and Brunnhilde flew up to meet him. Her eyes were wide but there was an expression of focused concern on her face. Loki wondered that she was worried about him while he still held the storm in his thrall. When she drew close, she seemed almost insubstantial, as if she were a ghost and Loki was suddenly afraid of the storm's strength coursing through his veins. He stumbled as the cloud beneath his feet abruptly thinned. Brunnhilde caught his arm and he screamed in pain as her fingers closed around his burned skin and his armor shattered. As it fell away, so too did the remaining power of the storm and he was hauled across the saddle on his belly. The position was undignified but Loki was suddenly too weak to protest and he was glad of her arm pinning him over her thighs.

Loki only caught glimpses of the remainder of the fight as he flitted in and out of consciousness. They circled the base of the palace, providing covering fire while Thor and his warriors raced to join them. Other Aesir and Vanir were picked up on a hilltop behind the city, until every Valkyrie carried a passenger and in some cases two. The riders swung out over the Bifrost and into a complex formation that seemed impossible to hold, moving closer and closer until wingtips brushed wingtips and tails flicked across distended equine nostrils. Then each Valkyrie unsheathed her sword it pointed up and forward. The swords glowed with a soft golden light as the sun broke through the clouds. He heard a low fluting tone and Loki realized that Brunnhilde was chanting, that all of the women warriors were chanting, and the horse wings provided a softly thrumming rhythm as they beat in unison. Loki saw it wasn’t the sun breaking through the storm but a shimmering tunnel opening in the sky. 

The winged horses plunged forward, still in formation. Sparkling stars flickered past like snowflakes in a blizzard, too numerous to count. All the while the Valkyrie chanted and held their swords steady. The tunnel turned sharply and they swept toward one fixed point in the streaming cosmos, a star, small and pale yellow. He caught a momentary glimmer of a world shining bright against the night and they were landing, pounding hooves throwing up ice and snow as they cantered to a stop. 

Loki slid from across Brunnhilde’s lap, landed on the frozen ground, turned and staggered towards the rushing shape of his Aesir prince.

In the torchlight cast from the rebuilt walls of old Utgard, under the eyes of Aesir and Jötunn alike, Thor crushed Loki to his chest in a hug that bruised his ribs. Loki, lifted from his feet, grasped Thor by his hair, jerked his head back and kissed Thor’s laughing mouth, over and over again, till tears streaked both their faces. Only when they could kiss no more for the need to draw breath did Thor lower him to the earth. They stood, uncaring of their restless audience, hands clasped on the back of each other’s necks and foreheads pressed together. 

“My mate.” said Loki.

“My husband.” said Thor.

“Sire of my child.” said Loki.

“WHAT?” said Thor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor got a bit of a surprise. Things are coming to a close.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home again.

Thor pulled back from Loki to study his face. Was the Jotun serious? 

At Thor’s incredulous outburst, Loki jerked as if he’d been slapped. When Thor leaned away with an expression not of joy, but with his brows furrowed as if the child was not a blessing but a problem, Loki’s heart sank. He stepped away from Thor and schooled his expression into one of cold formality.

“I see such news is unwelcome. Do not worry prince, I shall not hold you to an unwanted commitment. You and people will still be given safe haven.”

He turned to walk away, staying on his feet only by strength of will. Before he could take a step Thor said.

“Don’t be a fool!” And grabbed his forearm to spin Loki back around.

Broken bone shifted under his broad fingers and burned skin split. Pain lanced up Loki arm and stole the little strength the storm had left him. He didn’t scream but gasped as he fell to his knees. His vision greyed and he heard Thor’s ferocious bellow.

“You! Jötnar! Get a healer! Your prince is wounded!”

Then Thor loomed over him, cupped his face and said. “It’s alright Loki, my love. I was only startled. The news was unexpected not unwanted.”

Loki nodded, or thought he did. The weariness of mage sickness combined with the pain in his broken arm and burned skin, to send him drifting in and out of consciousness.

He heard Thor shouting to “Get those damned horses out of the way!” And “With legs that long you should already be here.” Then Loki was lifted carefully onto a pallet and it was the concerned faces of his people that were peering down at him as he carried across the snow. Thor’s booming voice followed. “No, I will not wait here. That’s my husband and he’s carrying our child and unless you want a broken skull for your trouble, get out of my face.”

“Thor.” Loki said and the rest of the thought drifted away as a large hand was placed over his arm and the pain was sealed away. The Healer shifted to the other arm and Loki sighed. Thor’s head kept comically popping up between the litter carriers as he jumped up to keep an eye on Loki. The sky blinked out and they were underground and Loki could smell the odor of New Utgard, the scent of home. Of fields and beasts and people. Of smoke and the spring blooming flowers. Tears ran down his cheeks.

“You are going to be alright Loki. Ketil says all you need is rest. Our child is fine. Please don’t cry. It’s all over now and everything is going to be alright.”

Loki knew it was not over, and whether everything was going to be alright or fall into war the Norns had not decided. But for now he was home, with his mate was at his side. He could feel, even through the blur of healing spell and exhaustion, the deep thrum of power that was the heart of his world. He shut his eyes and smiled.

***

In the days that followed there was angry saber rattling by the Aesir council, but with both of his children on Jötunheim, Tyr decided that isolation was the proper response. 

However the rest of the realms were open to Býleistr’s overtures and the Valkyrie were sent back and forth with missives. With their magic unfettered by the return of the Casket, Helblindi and Loki were able to improve the innate ability of the winged horses so that each women and her mount had the freedom to transverse the pathways between worlds. Even the elves welcomed the messengers and those Aesir warriors that had been transported to the dreamlike woodlands of Alfheim, woke to find themselves back on the streets of their home world, their memories of their time away muddled but otherwise healthy of mind and body. It was Loki and Helblindi who, with the help pf Freya and Freyr reforged the paths between the realms to open them for trade.

Trade talks between the rulers and representatives of the realms were now held in old Utgard, in the newly built palace. Loki had been reluctant at first to move but the summer residence was no brooding edifice of looming threat but a restrained and comfortable home. It was large enough to house the royal family and those few servants they required, as well as provide lodging for visiting dignitaries. Their home stood on a rise overlooking the town and everyday new homes and business arose from the rubble as mage smiths from Niðavellir worked with Jötnar craftsman and sorcerers to bring the capital city back to life. Býleistr had been quick to extend a welcome to the Dwarves and they were as eager to craft tools of peace as they had been to create those of war. The fields outside of old Utgard had been replanted and the horded plants and seeds from a hundred different cities were growing in profusion. 

The capital was not the only city to see such a rebirth, for the Dwarves were eager for the gems that lay hidden in the ancient mines. All over Jötunheim the tundra and steeps bloomed under the light of its pale sun. In the remnants of the southern forests the elusive Ljósálfar walked and cedar and pine and yew burst from the soil in their wake, growing from sprouting seed to towing maturity in the space of a season. From Vanaheim came those versed in the science and magic of the beasts and from the frozen carcasses of lost species new life grew in Vanir laboratories. Soon enough the “great hairy elephants” and giant wolves that had caught Haakon’s imagination would once again roam the steeps. 

Surtr, the indolent king of Muspelheim found profit in trading ingots of steel and copper and bronze and for the rank meat of the overpopulated thunderbeasts. His people considered the strong taste a delicacy and jewelry carved from the beast’s thick tusks found a ready market among the fire giants as they glowed with a soft blue light in the heated atmosphere of their world. From the bitter shores of Niflheim the mist demons, rarest of the inhabitants of the nine realms traded not in goods but in information, with memories passed down from the very birth of the galaxy. The Jötnar scribes traveled to the shrouded world to learn the songs that were sung when Yggdrasil was a sapling. In return they brought knowledge of the last thousand years and stories of the nine realms that the Niflar had never heard.  
Only Midgard with its fractious fragile inhabitants and dangerously primitive technology and brooding Asgard were left out of the new trade routes. 

***

Loki was curled in an overstuffed chair, on the balcony of their quarters with Freya, sipping rosehip tea while Thor pointed out the constellations to Sleipnir and told the stories of the stars as he had heard them on Asgard.

“Thor’s always had an interest in astronomy.” Freya said. “I am glad that here, he is encouraged to pursue it.”

“As am I. Too long has his mind been occupied with war and conquest. It is wonderful to see how readily he takes to peaceful pursuits. I was worried that he would miss his glory days.”

“These are my glory days.” Thor commented as he adjusted the star viewer to give his stepson a better view of the binary stars that occupied the screen. He turned his head to give Loki a brilliant smile. 

Loki returned the smile.

“And it is not as if I spend my days buried in books, unlike a certain sorcerer of my acquaintance. I have been assisting Hogun, Fandral and Sif with those troll incursions, as mother can tell you.”

Freya nodded. “I’m afraid the trolls will insist on raiding their neighbors rather than trading. If only they’d keep the custom among themselves it wouldn’t be a problem. But bashing one of the Vanir over the head with a club causes far more harm than simply waking up the next day with a headache. They really can’t seem to grasp the concept that not everyone is an indestructible as they.”

“It’s nice that you have a way to work off all of your excess energy, beloved. Don’t chide me for my studies. There are reams of new information that I have to catalogue and it’s not as if I’m presently fit to join you in knocking some sense into a bunch of rock headed trolls.” 

Loki patted his expanded belly and as if on cue his unborn child gave a healthy kick. “Calm down in there, you have another month before you’ll be ready to join your sire in battle.”

“She’s like her father.” Freya said with a smile. “Eager to be out in the world.” She gave Loki’s hand a squeeze. He returned it and sighed in happiness. 

He was no longer the only one of his people to be carrying a child. Since the return of the Casket pregnancies were rising among the Jötnar and their animals alike. This next generation carried none of the difficulties that the Warborn struggled with. But that was as it should be. A few would undoubtedly be born so. It was the way of things, but now they would be welcomed. The Jötnar had learned that different didn’t mean wrong and it was a hard lesson that they would not forget. The holdouts of Holtoft had had to face the cost of their prejudice when Býleistr required that they tear apart the old city to make it accommodating to the Warborn before any aid would be sent their way. It was surprising how quickly the history and traditions crumpled when it effected the wellbeing of the abled.

“Any news of Asgard?” Thor asked his mother as he took up his seat beside Loki. Sleipnir was engrossed with coloring in the stars and carefully picking out his colors from light to dark before applying them to the picture book his grandmother had gifted him.

He poured himself a mug of small beer, eschewing the tea Freya and Loki were drinking.

“Tyr is forming a new government. He intends to be the last king of Asgard and Heimdall will take over as head of the counsel. The Jarls have been pushing for more say in how they are ruled. In time, perhaps, they can be brought back into the nine. Heimdall sees the clearest of any Aesir and he will be in a position to sway them away from their outworn beliefs.” 

Freya took a sip from her tea and looked out at the clear night sky. Whatever her thoughts were her son and son in law honored them and kept their silence, their fingers interlaced. The only sounds was the soft scratch of colors on paper and the muted hum of the sleeping city.

“Oh Loki,” Frey said when she roused from her contemplation. “Gerd and Freyr have invited you to officiate their wedding next yule. They say they would have never met had you not first started a war with Asgard.”

“I hope they aren’t expecting me to perform a repeat of that travesty between Brunnhilde and myself. By the way, how are she and Halldóra doing now that they have settled on Vanaheim?”

“No, they are opting for the simpler Vanir ceremony. Father is fussing about the place and would have the entire castle rebuilt if Gerd hadn’t put her foot down. She is happy to live on Alfheim once they are married." Freya paused and raised an eyebrow in inquiry, looking so much like her son that Loki found himself blinking back tears of happiness. "It doesn’t bother you that your cousin prefers female pronouns does it?”

Loki wiped his eyes, and smiled in reassurance before replying. “Not at all. Neither really fit so it makes no difference. Besides Gerd does tend to express what the Vanir consider the more feminine qualities, as mine fall more toward the masculine end of your spectrum. In time you’ll sort out the linguistics.”

Loki reached up and pulled the cord to summon Sleipnir’s nurse. His son, no he corrected, their son was rubbing his eyes and yawning. Sleipnir got up reluctantly when Úlfr appeared but he was so tired he swayed on his feet. He bent down to give his parents and grandmother a kiss on the cheek before taking his nurse’s hand and toddling off to bed. Freya rose to her feet and giving “Her boys” as she called Loki and Thor, each a hug, she left them to each other’s company.

“Sleipnir’s a sweet lad.” Said Thor. “I hope our daughter has his temperament, if she inherits either of ours she’s going to be a terror.”

“She’s already one.” Loki said shifting uncomfortably as she made her presence known with another hard kick.

Thor placed his hand over his husband’s belly and waited a moment. He smiled when he felt the thump as his daughter once again protested her tight quarters.

Loki frowned in mock irritation. “I am glad you two are enjoying your time together.”

Thor chuckled, slide his hand to the back of Loki’s neck, and kissed him softly. “I’m enjoying our time together, Loki. With you and Sleipnir and little Laufey here. With mother and Býleistr and Helblindi.” He pressed his forehead to Loki’s. “Our family.”

Loki smiled and wrapped his arms around Thor’s neck. “Our family.” He agreed. “Now help me to bed you great oaf of an Aesir, for it is your fault that I cannot rise easily from this ridiculous chair.”

Thor’s laughter boomed like thunder on a summer night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little story. I have certainly enjoyed writing it. I thank all my readers and especially those who were kind enough to leave comments.


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